


Out of the Depths

by Mordac



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Slytherin Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 151,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23296420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordac/pseuds/Mordac
Summary: My take on the Slytherin!Harry genre. What if Harry's less-than-happy childhood had left him more jaded than canon? No pairings, and you won't find any eleven year olds talking as if they were at a Renaissance fair here either.
Comments: 68
Kudos: 219





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I began writing this work years ago, but I lacked time to write while doing my PhD, and was not as into the HP fandom as I once had been. However, I've recently read a few really well written fics which had me wanting to return to writing. I've got a fairly good outline of where it's going next, and have picked up writing the subsequent chapters. However, I need a beta. That's the reason I'm uploading the old chapters here. I'm hoping some kind soul will take come across this and offer help. If I had a beta, I would hold off publishing it here until I had finished the chapter I'm currently writing, at least. 
> 
> Anyway, I've always been a fan of the Slytherin!Harry genre, but a lot of the fics in it annoyed me, either because of character bashing, or more generally because they have no notion of proportion when dealing with interactions between eleven year olds. It's been since pointed out to me that I don't always avoid the latter trap either, but at least I'm trying to. If you find this is an issue, please point it out in reviews, because I need it pointed out if I am to improve. 
> 
> There are, of course, many Slytherin!Harry fics I've greatly appreciated. However, I thought it was time to actually show the world my own take on the subject, and here we are.
> 
> I of course do not own Harry Potter. Some of the dialogue, which I would have to reproduce in one form or another, even if just paraphrase, is taken from PS/SS. I tried to keep it to a minimum, but I didn't think paraphrasing was worth the bother.
> 
> So, without further ado, I present the first chapter of Out of the Depths.

_"_ _O tan-faced prairie-boy!  
Before you came to camp, came many a welcome gift;  
Praises and presents came, and nourishing food—till at last, among the recruits,  
You came, taciturn, with nothing to give—we but look'd on each other,  
When lo! more than all the gifts of the world, you gave me."_

_Walt Whitman_

It was getting embarrassing. It was not often that passers-bys saw an eleven year old carrying a massive wooden trunk and an owl cage, complete with the owl. He was starting to get really angry at Hagrid. How could he forget to tell him how to get onto the platform? That was probably the second most important thing he needed to know, the first being, "You're a wizard". He was starting to get lost in his thoughts when the loud words of a plump redheaded woman who seemed to be travelling with her entire extended family reached his ear.

"... packed with Muggles, of course..."

He could instantly tell, by the way she carried herself as though she owned the joint, that she was a witch. Which meant that the amorphous orange blob around her were likely all students going to Hogwarts, like himself. He retreated behind his luggage, but kept an eye out on the gingers' actions. They took a lot of time to do anything, seemingly lost in some inane conversation that Harry couldn't hear, but eventually what looked like the oldest of the children stepped briskly forward towards the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten. Harry recoiled instinctively, expecting him to crash, but instead, when he looked up, the boy was gone. His eyes went wide. Of course, the platform was hidden from muggles, just like Diagon Alley, and rather than tapping bricks, all he had to do was run through a wall. This theory was confirmed when another boy – that he now saw to be one of two twins – pushed his cart through the barrier. Harry could barely believe his eyes as he saw first the boy's luggage disappear, followed quickly by the boy himself.

Now that he knew how to get onto the platform, he hoped these people would hurry up. He didn't dare show himself to them, afraid that the scene at the Leaky Cauldron would repeat itself. Despite – or perhaps because of – his years of solitude at the Dursleys, he found he did not enjoy being put in the spotlight. It made him feel too exposed, and he certainly didn't want strangers swarming him again.

Finally, the pack of redheads had all crossed over, and he slowly began to make his way toward the barrier. Even though every one of his instincts told him that he was going to crash against it, forcing him to close his eyes in anticipation, he went through the barrier without even noticing it, and came upon a platform packed with people.

"Wicked!" he murmured. Magic was amazing. A sign overhead told the waiting passengers that the train, called the Hogwarts Express, would be departing at eleven. The train itself seemed to have been taken from a museum, steam from its engine floating above the station like a floating cloud of steam. He assumed the resemblance to muggle trains was only superficial; surely wizards wouldn't need to use steam engines, would they?

He had started moving while immersed in this thought, keeping close to the wall and heading toward the end coaches. He figured less people would be boarding at the back, giving him more time to settle in. Around him, many wizards and witches fussed over their children, though he noticed several couples who at least looked like muggles. He assumed their children were the "other kind" – the kind that the blond boy at Madam Malkin's didn't think should be let into Hogwarts.

"Now Daphne, say goodbye to your sister, dear. You won't be seeing her again for a long time," he heard a slender witch say to a girl with long black hair, whom he assumed was Daphne. She looked about his age, so Harry assumed she too was starting Hogwarts that year. Daphne bent down and hugged her smaller sister, who appeared both embarrassed and pleased, despite trying to disguise the latter. "Bye, Astoria," the older girl said. "I'll tell you all about Hogwarts when I come home for Christmas."

Harry smiled a melancholy smile at this display, as he continued to push his cart down the platform, finally reaching the penultimate coach. He struggled to get his trunk on board, but fortunately his Dickensian childhood had given him a gift for seemingly impossible tasks, and after much huffing and puffing he managed to drag it to a compartment. After finally tucking it away safely for the journey, he let himself fall into the seat closest to the window, under which he had stowed the trunk, and let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He was there. On the train to Hogwarts. Finally away from his so-called relations, and he was going to learn magic. Yes, the world wasn't such a bad place after all.

He was so overjoyed he barely heard the train whistle and only realized that they were moving when it started to accelerate through the London suburbs. His peace was interrupted by the loud clanking of wood on metal. He could tell someone was trying to move their trunk with even less success than he'd just had. Feeling charitable, he got up and slid the compartment door open, poking his head out in the direction of the noise.

"Need help with that, mate?" He asked of the trunk's owner, a tall, stringy boy with black hair. The boy was as skinny as Harry, but clearly less used to manual work, for he looked back at him with immense relief showing in his eyes.

"Would you? My father helped me hoist it onto the train, but I guess he never thought I'd need to drag it after I was inside..." Harry laughed and grabbed one of the handles, as the boy did the same on the other side. Instinctively, he walked in reverse toward his old compartment, not even thinking that the hazel-eyed boy might have had other plans. The new trunk was safely resting beside its brother when Harry even considered that possibility.

"Er, I hope you didn't have any particular destination in mind…" he trailed off, mostly afraid he'd have to pick up the heavy chest again; however, that motivation probably took the back seat to a deep desire for companionship. Fortunately, his worries were for naught, as the boy sat across from him and looked up at the ceiling in exhaustion.

Seemingly speaking to the ceiling, the boy shrugged as he regained his breath, and asked dryly, "Well, this is the train to Hogwarts, isn't it?" There was a moment of silence before Harry snickered. The boy lowered his head and grinned at him. "This is fine. I'm Theodore Nott, by the way," he introduced himself, extending his hand. Harry quickly shook it.

"Harry Potter..." he trailed off, hoping he didn't get the reaction he did before. Whatever reaction he expected, however, wasn't what Theodore displayed, for he just looked at him slack-jawed with an expression he couldn't identify. His face was wiped clear of emotion within a few seconds, and he spoke with a very detached voice.

"Are you really? Well, you look nothing like in the stories."

Harry couldn't believe his ears. "There are stories about me?"

Nott blinked at that. "Well, there are children's books featuring you. I got one for Christmas once, from a distant cousin... But how can you not know that?" He seemed more puzzled than anything.

Harry flushed a little as he asked this question, painfully aware of how ignorant he was of the wizard world. "I didn't know I was a wizard until last month. I was raised by my muggle relatives, and they hate magic, so they didn't tell me anything about it."

Theodore was clearly shocked. "What? I'd heard that you had to live with muggles, but why wouldn't they tell you anything? Surely there was someone watching over you?"

Harry just shrugged. He did find it odd, now that he really thought about it. If he was so important, why hadn't anyone ever checked on him? Surely they wouldn't tolerate their hero being treated like a bloody servant. The anger he started to feel at this realization must have shown on his face, because Nott leaned back and looked at him like he was seeing him for the first time.

"You're serious, aren't you? You really were raised by bloody muggles."

Harry looked sheepishly at Nott. He was really embarrassed at not knowing much about magic, and he resented the Dursleys for withholding it from him all his life. But more than that, he hated the fact that no wizard had ever deigned to check on him. He finally nodded. "Yea, it was bad..." He trailed off, desperate to change the subject. He grabbed onto the first thought that occurred to him.

"How about you? Are all your family wizards?" The other boy looked downcast at this. "They are. But it's really just me and father. My mum died two years ago and I don't have any siblings, so..." He trailed off.

"Oh. I'm sorry." He was; he had never known his own parents, and he missed them terribly, even though he knew he was missing the _idea_ of having parents more than his actual parents. Somehow, the idea of knowing them before losing them seemed even worse. Theodore shrugged, though Harry noticed he was avoiding his gaze.

"It's alright, you didn't know..." Nott's eyes drifted towards the window, and Harry sat back and let him enjoy his silence. It wasn't awkward, even though they'd just met. It was as if some old longing had settled in the compartment, and they were both lost to it. Theodore on what had been, Harry on what could have been.

He couldn't tell how long they had been lost in that solemn silence, but they were eventually interrupted by a smiling, dimpled witch who opened the compartment door to expose a food cart. "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry hadn't had anything for breakfast, so he got up to examine the cart's contents. He wasn't sure what half the things on it were, and despite his newfound fortune, his old habit of frugal living wouldn't let him splurge on candy from the cart even though he was sorely tempted to do so. He took out his money pouch and bought a couple of sandwiches, and turned back to bump into Nott. He hadn't even heard him get up, and he drew back, startled. Nott grinned and got himself some nondescript food, while Harry returned to his seat after navigating around the taller boy.

After they'd both made themselves comfortable again, Harry commented between bites, "I didn't even hear you get up. How did you do that? Magic?"

Theodore laughed with a sly look. "Not magic, just practice. In our old crooked house, you can hardly move without something creaking, but I've always liked to wander around at night. So I had to develop some stealth skills. Doesn't mean I never got caught though," he added with a grimace, and Harry imagined he was recalling some punishments he had been subjected to for being caught. Harry knew from experience how bad that could get. They stayed silent for long after the food was eaten, each one ruminating over his thoughts. Eventually, remembrance of his trip to Diagon Alley prompted him to break the pleasant silence.

"When we get to Hogwarts, how do they decide which house to put you in?" He was genuinely curious. _What was the point of the house thing anyway?_ he wondered.

Theodore just shrugged. "My father wouldn't tell me, though he did warn me to disregard any outrageous rumours. Some kid on the platform was saying that we had to try on a talking hat, if you can believe it!" They both laughed. "It has something to do with your personality though, I'm sure of it." Theodore had unconsciously adopted a lofty tone during his explanation, which amused Harry greatly. "Gryffindor is the house of the brave and brazen. Ravenclaw is for those who pursue knowledge and wisdom. Hufflepuff is based on equality, diversity and hard work, while Slytherin is the house of cunning and ambition." Theodore finished his mini-lecture, prompting Harry to deliver the follow up.

"What house do you think you'll be in, then?" he asked.

Theodore looked somewhat conflicted at this. "Well, my father will be really disappointed if I don't get into Slytherin. Everyone in my family has been a Slytherin for generations…. But I think I will be a Ravenclaw." He bit his lip. "I guess you wouldn't know, but we don't have schools before Hogwarts, so I was just home-schooled." He looked embarrassed and seemed to be looking for words to put something delicately. "My father doesn't really have a lot of family friends, so it was basically just me and my parents growing up. I didn't have anything to do so I just read a lot… anything I could get my hands on."

Harry wished he could have had that solace growing up. He did nick one of Dudley's children's books once when he was younger. The fat pig hardly knew how to read, so he hadn't noticed it missing. It was the only book he'd ever owned before receiving the Hogwarts letter, and it sat in his trunk that very moment. Even though it was a very childish story, he didn't think he would ever be able to throw it away.

He must have drifted away in his thoughts, because Nott suddenly poked him. "Are you awake, Potter?"

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Sorry, something you said just brought back memories… What were you saying?"

"I was asking which House you think you'll be in." A great question, Harry thought, but one he didn't have an answer for. He didn't think he really had any of the qualities Nott had described, and a dread washed over him like a bucked of cold water. What if he was found unworthy of any of the Houses, and sent back to the Dursleys?

"I.. I'm not sure. I guess we'll just have to find out when we get the-" he was interrupted by a bushy head poking through the compartment door. The body attached to it soon followed: a brown haired girl of around their age, who was already sporting her new Hogwarts robes..

"Have any of you seen a toad?" she demanded, standing in the middle of their compartment. Harry frowned. Her tone of voice was very bossy and it reminded him vaguely of Aunt Petunia.

That likeness was partly why he sounded so harsh when he replied, "Why would we have seen a toad? We're on a train. Did you hit your head somewhere?" She looked extremely flustered at this and huffed.

"A boy named Neville just lost his, for your information. And you shouldn't talk like that to people, it's rude."

At this, Nott leaned forward and took Harry's side. "What do you call just barging in without warning and just asking us about toads? If that's not rude, what is? Of course we'd think you're mental. Try saying hello first, next time."

The girl just looked even more self-important, if that was possible. "In any case, we're almost at Hogwarts, so you'd better put on your robes if you don't want to get sent back home." With a self-satisfied smirk, she left them with that Parthian shot.

Harry and Nott grumbled a little to each other, but the train did seem to be slowing down. They hurriedly got their robes on, finishing just as a disembodied voice announced that "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

"Well, that's a relief," Harry breathed. "I wasn't fancying having to carry that thing all the way to school." Theodore's only reply was a grimace, after which they got up and headed into the corridor as the train slowed down and ground smoothly to a halt. They jumped down onto the platform and hurried through the crowd of students towards the front of the train, where a familiar voice was calling out, "Firs' years!"

It was Hagrid! They had just joined the throng of 'firs' years' when they started to move, following Hagrid down a narrow path, lined up with gloomy cedars. The trees seemed to impose a heavy silence on the new students, and no one dared open their mouth. Harry and Theodore were the last in line, and were too focused on keeping track of their footing in the dark evening, with the gamekeeper's light serving as a small beacon.

It was after he rounded a pronounced bent in the path that he saw it: Hogwarts castle, looming against the moonlit sky, its towers majestically dominating the highlands. It was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. The moment was disturbed by Hagrid yelling at students.

"No more'n four to a boat!" he called. Harry and Theodore eventually got into a boat with two girls, one sporting plain short brown hair, and the other an auburn that shone in the moonlight. They shared the boat in awkward silence, but Harry noticed both girls stealing glances at his scar. Annoyed, he flattened his hair over it, after which they both blushed and looked away. One of them looked ready to say something when the gamekeeper ordered them to keep their heads down, just before they entered into a dark, low tunnel.

Eventually, they reached an underground harbour, where they clambered out of the boats. The orderly procession was briefly interrupted when Hagrid stopped to talk to a snivelling boy, but eventually they were all walking through fresh grass until they reached the castle's imposing front doors.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?" he heard Hagrid shout. He glanced at Theodore and they both snickered, remembering the absurd bush-haired girl. Perhaps luckily, their laughter was drowned out by Hagrid knocking thrice on the heavy door.

A stern looking, black-haired witch promptly opened it, and took in their measure with a single glance. "The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said respectfully.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." Harry could barely hear her over the commotion the students were making at the sight of the huge entrance hall. It reminded him of Buckingham Palace, which he had once visited on a class field trip, though the flaming torches lining the walls and the magical atmosphere surrounding the whole castle made it seem even more majestic.

As they walked through the imposing corridor, they could make out the noise of hundreds of voices through a door to the side, but they were led into a miserable looking empty ante-chamber.

Professor McGonagall raised her voice to address them for the first time. "Welcome to Hogwarts," she said briskly. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be like your family. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room." She paused, and her eyes swept the room before she continued.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. While I happen to be head of Gryffindor, each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule breaking will lose them. At the end of the year, the House with the most points will be awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours."

"The Sorting will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

She glanced down at the students in the front of the throng with a disapproving expression, and then looked over the students as if searching for someone, until her gaze focused on Harry. She looked slightly surprised. Harry frowned a little at this. Was he going to be gawked at here too, even by his teachers? And what was the need to look so sour, anyway? Living under such a head of house must be very depressing, he thought. She soon collected her wits, though, and continued. "I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly."

She turned and exited, leaving behind a ponderous silence, broken only by the bushy haired girl from the train, who was muttering something to herself exceedingly fast, though Harry couldn't make it out what it was due to the distance. Considering how nervous he himself was, he did feel a twinge of sympathy for her, even though his concerns were probably much different. Given what he had seen so far, he was rather dreading the end of his temporary anonymity.

He only noticed what was happening after several people ahead of him screamed. Twenty or so ghosts had just floated through a wall into the room. They seemed to be arguing among themselves. He wasn't roused from his thoughts fast enough to catch most of their discussion, but did hear one ghost, wearing a ruff and tights, ask the gathered students,

"I say, what are you all doing here?" Harry rolled his eyes at the question. From his manner of dress, the ghost had to be from hundreds of years ago. Surely he'd know by now what they were doing there!

"New students!" said another ghost, a fat little monk, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?" A few people nodded at this, which encouraged the friar to go on. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know."

Cutting short what seemed to be a promising start, Professor McGonagall re-entered the room.

"Move along now," her raspy voice rasped. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." The ghosts starting floating out through another wall as she went on. "Now, form a line and follow me."

The students promptly obeyed, and in the confusion Harry got separated from Theodore. He could still make him out at the end of the line, though, and mouthed a silent 'Good luck' at him. The taller boy grinned at him and nodded, and Harry turned forward and filed out the ante-chamber with the rest of the students.

What he saw next was enough distract him from whatever nervousness that had begun to grip him. They had gone through a second set of double doors into what must have been the Great Hall. It was the most amazing sight Harry had ever seen. The vast expanse was lit by thousands of floating candles. Four tables were laid along the hall's length, one for each of the Hogwarts' Houses, and a fifth was set at the other end of the hall, perpendicular to the others. Harry assumed this was the staff table, for there sat the only adults in the room, bar Professor McGonagall herself.

But the most amazing thing was the ceiling. Or rather, the lack thereof, for while Harry assumed a real ceiling must be there, it seemed as though they were staring directly into the vast expanse of the heavens above. The moon and the stars were twinkling merrily at them in the miraculously cloudless sky, and Harry could not help but feel this was a sign of good things to come. The sight settled his heart and mind. He knew that his life would never be the same again, and for that he wanted to shout for joy.

His momentary bliss was disturbed when the boy behind him, whom he vaguely recognized to be the snivelling boy Hagrid had stopped to talk early on, bumped into him. Harry had stopped in his wonder at the night, without even noticing. He flushed in embarrassment and started walking faster to make up for the lost ground. Eventually, they reached the head table, where they formed a new line ahead of the professors, with the other students all looking at them. Harry tried his best to be inconspicuous, despite knowing that it was all going to be for naught soon, anyway.

Oblivious to his worry, McGonagall was placing a four legged stool in front of them. After that, she placed the rattiest hat he had ever seen on its top. Harry instantly remembered his talk with Nott on the train, and he couldn't help but stare at it as it burst into song!

The hat's first words were lost on Harry, however. He searched for Theodore with his eyes, and found him behind one black boy who was looking around in awe. He had the most unbelieving look Harry had ever seen. He couldn't help but catch his eye and laugh quietly. Theodore shrugged, but he was grinning. Harry brought his attention back to the hat, which was just finishing its song.

 _"_ _So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The whole hall burst into applause at this, but Harry wasn't sure what to think. In the end he clapped half-heartedly, while the hat bowed to each of the four tables and then became still again.

Harry's nerves returned as the reckoning drew nigh. Professor McGonagall approached with a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pudgy faced little girl with her blonde hair in pigtails stumbled her way toward the stool, and put on the hat for a moment before it shouted "HUFFLEPUFF!"

This prompted cheers from the far right table, which she rushed to join. Harry really wished they could do this privately. It wasn't fair that they had to be exposed like this. It didn't help that he had no idea where he was going to go.

More students were sorted, including the brown haired girl who sat ahead of him in the boat, who turned out to be Tracey Davis: she was sent off to Slytherin. After a few more students had been sorted, the bushy haired witch he met on the train, who he now knew to be "Granger, Hermione", was sorted into Gryffindor. Harry's gaze followed her into the Gryffindor table, where she was greeted boisterously by many of the older students. He cringed inwardly. They seemed to be so much more enthusiastic than everyone else. The Slytherin table was the more subdued, followed by Ravenclaw, but even Hufflepuff didn't overdo it like that.

The girl who he'd seen saying goodbye to her family on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, Daphne Greengrass, was also quickly sorted into Slytherin.

The boy who'd bumped into him earlier, who turned out to be called "Neville Longbottom" (Harry couldn't help but snort), also went to Gryffindor, but not before the Hat took the longest time out of anyone else yet to put him there.

The auburn-haired girl he shared the boat with, Morag MacDougal, was sent to Ravenclaw.

The blond boy whom he'd seen at Madam Malkin's, who turned out to be called Draco Malfoy, swaggered all the way to the stool, where he was sorted into Slytherin almost before the Hat touched his head. He quickly joined his new House table, looking very pleased with himself.

It was Theodore's turn now. He walked up to the hat as a man might walk the long and final mile that takes the condemned to the gallows. He braced himself as he put the Hat on his head, and Harry lost sight of his eyes. Time ticked, and Nott's face seemed to contort in a grimace a few times. It was just over a minute before the hat finally yelled "SLYTHERIN!"

Harry smiled and gave Ted a thumbs up as he strolled toward the Slytherin table, looking as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Theodore nodded and smiled, relieved, as he took a seat next to the Davis girl.

A couple of twin girls had just been sorted, one into Ravenclaw and the other to Gryffindor, when Professor McGonagall finally called out for "Potter, Harry."

Harry imagined he didn't look any more cheerful than Nott as he strode toward the stool, the Great Hall having just erupted into a flurry of whispers.

"Potter, did she say?"

" _The_ Harry Potter?"

He tried to block out the noise as he found himself looking at the ratty inside of the hat. A slippery voice in his mind startled him.

"My my, what have we here?" Harry made to talk, or at least 'think' back to the hat, but it interrupted him immediately. "No, don't worry Potter. You've a very interesting mind, but I know exactly where to put you. Do come talk to me sometime, and tell me how you've been enjoying SLYTHERIN!" This last word was shouted toward the whole hall.

Harry removed the hat from his head quickly and strode toward the Slytherin table, where the reaction to his sorting was seemingly mixed. Most people were clapping, some politely and others more enthusiastically, but a minority seemed to be casting him shifty and even hateful glances. He frowned, but walked valiantly on anyway.

"Saved you a seat," he heard Nott calling to him. "I knew you'd make it here." He seemed much more at ease now that he had been successfully sorted. A few of the students, including the Prefects, insisted on shaking his hand before he managed to sit down.

The first thing he did after he got himself comfortable was looking at the high table, where he noticed a man with long, oily hair giving him a rather sour look. He asked the second year sitting ahead of him who he was.

"He's our Head of House, Professor Snape. He teaches potions, and he's really strict, but don't worry about it, he is great to us. It's the others who have to fear him." She smirked. "Esther Heathcliff, by the way, Potter. Can't say this was expected, but it's nice having you here." She glanced at the Gryffindor table and smirked.

Harry thanked her absent-mindedly, thinking to himself that if that was his Head of House, he may have avoided McGonagall but wasn't sure he'd gotten a much better deal. He was jerked out of his thoughts by a black boy named Blaise Zabini, who had just been sorted into Slytherin, sitting on his other side. He did his best to welcome him, but the Great Hall fell silent, and Harry looked to the head table for the source of this silence. Blaise had been the last of the first years to be Sorted, and the headmaster rose to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, the first of hopefully many more chapters to come. I'd appreciate it if you took the time to review. I especially welcome constructive criticism, by which I mean actual concrit, not a torrent of insults disguised as such. But I love every review I may get, so if you don't feel up to leaving concrit, anything is fine. I'd just like to know what you think.
> 
> Until then.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to start by thanking the sole reviewer of my last chapter, even if I could not actually understand the review because I don't speak French! That said, it was actually relatively long, so I appreciate that you put in the time to write. (I'm now half expecting for someone to come along and tell me the review said it was all crap :P ). 
> 
> I have a few acknowledgements to make, but I'll wait for the end so as not to spoil anything.
> 
> Once again, some dialogue will be taken from PS/SS. Needless to say, I don't own that or any other component of the Harry Potter franchise.
> 
> I am also still in need of a beta, so if any kind soul would like to help me improve my writing , that'd be hugely appreciated.
> 
> A few words are also in order about the definition of canon I'm working with here. I'm only considering as canon the seven novels, as well as Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and Quidditch Through the Ages. For the avoidance of doubt, that means that the constant stream of writer's diarrhoea coming out of Pottermore will be ignored, as will be the rest of the franchised out bits.

_I prefer roses, my love, to my Country,  
And rather magnolias I love  
Than glory and virtue._

_Ricardo Reis_

The headmaster was looking at the students like he wanted nothing more than to reach out and give each of them a big hug. It was vaguely creepy.

"Welcome," he intoned with a genial smile. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

"Thank you!"

The headmaster sat down calmly as many people clapped and cheered. Harry's own table was mostly applauding politely, but Harry was left wondering what had just happened. Why was a string of random words grounds for clapping? In the end he went along with it, though he couldn't help but wonder about the man's sanity.

He did hear Blaise mutter next to him "Totally bonkers…," so he could feel some comfort in the fact that he wasn't the only one struck by the oddity of the situation.

In his disbelief, he didn't even notice the welcoming feast magically appearing on the table, and was startled to find a platter of delicious looking fried chicken right in front of him. He half expected it to be suddenly snatched away from him and given to a fat relation, leaving him to make do with the bare crumbs, but then he remembered he was at Hogwarts, where food just seemed to appear in front of him, and there were no Dursleys to torment him. He smiled as he reached for the succulent fowl. Life wasn't so bad after all.

Nott was too focused on attacking a huge pork leg to notice anything around him, but the boy on the other side was looking at him with a strange expression.

"Why are you wearing that goofy grin, Potter? Do you like fried chicken that much?" He then paused and extended his hand. "Blaise Zabini, by the way, but you probably already knew that."

Harry took his hand and replied, "Harry Potter, and you probably knew that as well.

"And it's not about chicken," he continued. He paused to reconsider. "Then again, maybe it is. Maybe life is just a big chunk of fried chicken, and I'm about to bite a mouthful."

And he did!

Blaise just looked at Harry as if he did not know what to say to the odd statement. Harry thought that right now, the other boy probably thought he was as mad as Dumbledore, but as the savoury meat juices hit his tongue he just couldn't care, though he could see Theodore was chuckling at Zabini's expression. The girl on his left diagonal, whom he remembered from the train station as Daphne, wasn't so shy.

"Are you alright in the head, Potter? That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard in my life!" There was no malice in her voice, but she did seem to think there was something wrong with him. He quickly swallowed.

"I don't think I've ever been better in my life…," he paused. "Daphne Greengrass, right?"

She nodded. "Nice memory you've got there."

Harry shrugged. "Well, you were on Platform Nine and Three Quarters when I came through the barrier." He felt like testing the waters, so he pointedly glanced at Dumbledore as he finished. "In any case, I think there are other people whose mental stability you should worry about before mine."

Daphne, along with Blaise and Theodore who were listening in by now, followed his gaze and all burst out laughing after a second. Harry did glance long enough for the Headmaster to beam at him creepily and nod, after which he quickly averted his gaze, flustered. He hoped Dumbledore couldn't tell what they had been laughing about.

Everyone sort of focused on their food after this. Harry wasn't lying, he had never been happier in his life, except perhaps before his parents died, but he couldn't remember that, could he? A flighty shadow passed over his face, and he wondered if he should feel anything about being in the same House as his parents' killer.

But he soon returned to elation. It was the first time in his life he was having a civil conversation with people who didn't mind his presence. These kids didn't look like dark wizards in the making. He sighed contentedly as he finished the pudding he had chosen for dessert. Theodore had just finished, but all other first years he could see were still enjoying the tasty delicacies on the table.

Harry took the time to survey his professors on the high table, wondering who taught what. He knew Snape taught Potions, and next to him sat Professor Quirrell, whom he remembered from the Leaky Cauldron.

He groaned. He was starting to feel a headache coming on. He wondered whether wizards had anything equivalent to Aspirin.

The people around him were all finishing now, and the heavy feast was taking its toll on Harry, making him wish for a bed above all else.

However, that would have to wait, as just as the desserts magically disappeared from the table, the Headmaster rose again. While he was quite possibly insane, he obviously also commanded a lot of respect, for everyone went quiet almost at once.

"Ahem—just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you."

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

For some reason, this last part seemed to be directed at the Gryffindor table.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors."

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch."

"And finally, I must tell you that for the duration of this school year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

"So, if you _do_ want to die a very painful death it's okay to go there?" Theodore muttered to him. Harry bit his lip, though he did question the wisdom of keeping anything that could cause one to 'die a very painful death' in a school full of children. There mustn't be any lawyers in the magical world.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" the Headmaster ended rather cheerfully, but Harry couldn't help but notice the other teachers' smiles had become rather artificial, and some of the older students around him rolled their eyes.

Oblivious to all this, Dumbledore gaily flicked his wand, causing a golden ribbon to flow out of its tip. It rose high above the tables, nearly losing itself in the starry dome above, before coming to a halt and twisting into words.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune," followed Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And to Harry's amazement, so they did, singing a song more absurd than he thought was possible for the human mind to conceive:

" _Hogwarts, Hogwarts,  
Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,  
Teach us something please,  
Whether we be old and bald  
Or young with scabby knees,  
Our heads could do with filling  
With some interesting stuff,  
For now they're bare and full of air,  
Dead flies and bits of fluff,  
So teach us things worth knowing,  
Bring back what we've forgot,  
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,  
And learn until our brains all rot."_

Harry got two words out before downright refusing to utter such nonsense. He opted for just moving his lips in a convincing imitation of singing. He wasn't the only one, for the ruckus of the singing around him was at a suspiciously lower volume than that from the middle of the hall.

Due to the lack of anything resembling a tune, everyone finished the song at different times. A pair of redheaded twins from Gryffindor, whom Harry recognized from the barrier to the platform, was the last to finish as they sung along to a very slow funeral march. Harry wished the wankers would just finish and put everybody out of their misery, but Dumbledore was happy to encourage them, conducting the last few lines with his wand. When it was finally over, the headmaster was one of those who clapped loudest, but to Harry's dismay, most people followed him, apparently being all tone deaf.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

In normal circumstances, Harry would've objected at being treated like cattle, but his sleepiness combined with the headmaster's obvious senility inspired him to feel charitable.

A Slytherin prefect who introduced himself simply as Heathcliff, and whom Harry deduced was probably the brother of the girl he'd sat in front of at the table, as they did look remarkably alike, gathered the first years around him. He seemed far from pleased with his assignment, but tried not to let it show as he led them down the staircases, down into what had to be the very bowels of the castle. Harry took care to memorize the way; he didn't want to get lost in the morning.

Eventually they reached a bare stone wall. Heathcliff called for their attention. "This is the entrance to our common room. You'll be well advised not to let this knowledge spread." He glanced at them with what was intended to be vaguely menacing, but delivered by a pimple-faced fifteen year old, it fell somewhat flat. Still, the general message was conveyed.

"You must speak the password to enter the room. If any of you lets the password out, you'll regret ever being born. The password changes regularly, but right now it's 'desire the right.'" At those words, the wall moved aside to let them into a long room with a low ceiling. It was dimly lit by green tinted lamps, and a fire was crackling on the fireplace below an intricate tapestry, warming the various older Slytherin sitting around and making the cold stone walls seem less foreboding. This was going to be his home for the next seven years. He felt a surge of happiness inside him. This was it!

Heathcliff woke him of his musings by directing them towards their dormitories, the boys to left and the girls to the right. They reached a dark room, with a window just on their left showing what must have been the bottom of the lake, because all he could see was murk.

Six beds waited for them, as did their trunks. The room was about two times as long as it was wide, and six beds lined the left hand wall. There was a door opposite the one they had just entered through, which Harry deduced led to the bathroom. Harry darted towards the bed at the far end of the dorm. Theodore took the bed on his side, and Blaise on Theodore's side, after which followed either Crabbe or Goyle (Harry had forgotten which was which), then Draco Malfoy and finally the other member of the brawny duo. Harry was just finishing getting dressed when Malfoy himself came up to him.

"So you're Harry Potter! You could've said so in Madam Malkin's you know?" He then drew himself up as if he was making some grand pronouncement. "I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. And these two are Crabbe and Goyle," he said, pointing to his two friends.

Harry still had not seen anything to dispel his first impression of Draco, but he hadn't really _done_ anything to him, and he _was_ going to have to live with him, so he thought he might as well be polite. He took Malfoy's proffered hand and shook it once before letting go. "Well, you didn't ask. I guess it now goes without saying that I'm Harry Potter."

Malfoy chuckled and withdrew back to his trunk for his own dressings.

Harry approached Theodore. "Well, you made it. How are you feeling now?" he inquired. Theodore had been pretty anxious to get into Slytherin.

"I hope I don't regret it. But so far it's much better than I thought."

Blaise approached them, fully ready for bed. "Potter, you know you must have surprised a lot of people ending up here. What gives? Don't get me wrong, I'm delighted," Blaise grinned, "but you're gonna raise a few eyebrows."

Harry shrugged. "Why would I want to be anywhere else?" He quickly hopped into bed and started drawing his curtains. "Night Blaise, night Ted."

He heard Theodore's outraged voice. "Ted?" Blaise laughed, and they both bade him goodnight. He barely heard them as he turned over on his stomach and fell asleep almost immediately.

* * *

Harry was the first to wake up. His sheets were crumpled and he felt much more tired than he should have. At least he was used to getting up early, having so often had to cook breakfast for the Dursleys. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and quickly dashed to the bathroom where he performed his morning ablutions. When he returned, he saw Theodore and one of Malfoy's goons were already up. Ted looked like he had barely slept at all. Harry made towards him.

"Are you alright?" He didn't look very put off by it, but Harry thought he might as well check.

"I'm great." Theodore grinned slightly and shrugged. "I told you I like to wander around at night. I just had to take a look around the castle." Harry's chin just dropped at Ted's rather cavalier attitude towards curfew. "Oh don't worry, I told you I'm used to sneaking around. At least the floors here aren't wooden."

Harry shrugged. "Well, if you think you can do it without getting caught… But you look terrible."

Theodore shuddered. "Yeah, I got a bit lost" he said, looking down sheepishly. "But don't worry, after I wash up and have a pot of coffee, I'll be as good as new."

And indeed he was. After Ted was finished, they left the common room towards the Great Hall and the delicious breakfast it contained. In the common room, they stumbled upon a girl from their year, whom Harry recognized as Pansy Parkinson, though she still felt the need to introduce herself. She was a bit haughty, but Harry shrugged that off.

With Ted practically sleepwalking beside him, Harry was left to make small talk with Pansy. He learned she was Malfoy's friend even before coming to Hogwarts, their parents apparently being rather close. He wondered how many more people knew each other before coming to the school, and suddenly felt very alone. They soon arrived at the breakfast table, though, and his worries quickly gave way to thoughts of food. Besides, hadn't Theodore told him he hardly ever met anyone growing up?

The three of them sat together, and Theodore immediately jumped towards the coffee. They ate in silence as the Great Hall started to fill up. Ted looked more up to form now that the coffee was kicking in, and Pansy was talking to Draco, who had arrived in the interim, leaving Harry to his thoughts. He wondered what his classes would have in store for him. Part of him was afraid. It had been such a short time since he even learned he was a wizard. He was terrified of being unable to perform magic after all, despite all evidence to the contrary.

The cold feeling in his stomach was interrupted by Professor Snape, who was doling out their timetables. He handed Harry his own without sparing him a glance. Indeed, it seemed as if his Head of House was deliberately trying to avoid facing him. Harry shrugged. Whatever his problem was, he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

A quick glance at the newly handed out parchment told him his first class would be transfiguration. Being finished with breakfast, he rose. "C'mon Ted, let's get going. We still need to find the classroom."

Ted shook his head at his new nickname, but there was no real annoyance in it. "I think I passed by it last night…"

They did manage to reach it without major trouble, though apparently the school was different at day than at night. Harry chalked it up to the moving staircases.

A large girl Harry remembered was called Millicent Bulstrode was already there. Theodore headed to the back of the room, and Harry went along, thinking staying out of view was probably a good idea, especially given who he had been told taught this class.

The room slowly filled with the rest of the class, and exactly as the clock struck the hour, Professor McGonagall entered the room. Harry was still wary of her, but she seemed over what she thought so queer, for she didn't spare him a second glance. She started the class by giving them a strict introductory message.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

She proceeded to change her desk into a cow and back again. And that, quite frankly, was amazing. He'd seen magic at work in everyday things, both when he'd been at Diagon Alley and in in the few hours he'd been at Hogwarts, but this sort of power over nature, to be able to change the fundamental nature of something in that fashion… it was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. He was soon brought crashing back to reality when McGonagall saw fit to cool their enthusiasm.

"I'm afraid none of you will be changing desks into livestock any time soon. Though if you press forward in this class to NEWT level, I will be happy to guide you along that path," she said, as if she didn't really expect any of them to do so.

She proceeded to give them the theory on basic transfigurations. It was not easy, but Harry followed with rapt attention. This was magic, and he was determined.

Eventually, the professor supplied each of them with a matchstick, and instructed them to try transfiguring their match into a needle.

While most people started their attempts immediately, Harry paused for a minute to collect his thoughts. He buried his face in his hands, prompting Theodore to whisper to him. "Are you alright?"

Harry just nodded back and mumbled. "I'm fine. Just thinking." Ted shrugged and went back to his attempts, and Harry started looking over his notes for something he remembered from a few minutes ago. Yes, that was it. He thought he could do it. He waved his wand over the matchstick and muttered the right words, but to his dismay nothing happened. He frowned. He thought he'd done everything right. Looking around, however, no one was having any better luck than him, so that comforted him somehow. Still, he wanted to show he could do it, confirm to himself that yes, he was a wizard and deserved to be in this world, away from his degenerate relatives. With a surge of determination, he tried again, striving to make every movement as precisely as possible. His memory went over everything he'd just heard in the class. As he finished off his last movement, the matchstick wood seemed to shine, and he watched it turn to metal in front of his eyes. Unfortunately, the head remained, making him the possessor of the world's first match-needle. That didn't stop Ted from voicing his enthusiasm.

"Wow, you did it!" the girl on his left, Tracey Davis, exclaimed, letting her voice rise in her enthusiasm. This prompted the professor to come down on them like a hawk.

"Yes, Ms. Davis, is there anything you need help with?" Tracey blushed and looked down, but managed to have the presence of spirit to reply.

"No, ma'am, but Harry's done it…" The whole class turned and looked at him, and Harry flinched under so many looks. He couldn't blame the brunette for announcing it, given the circumstances, but he wished she'd contained her enthusiasm. McGonagall looked upon Harry's match with skepticism, and Harry promptly blurted out, "Not really, it's still got the head on it…"

McGonagall frowned as she picked his match-needle, and reluctantly conceded. "In spite of that, this is a very impressive job for a first try, Mr. Potter. Two points to Slytherin." Harry frowned, but McGonagall put down the match and turned to the class before he was able to say anything in reply. She announced class was over, and their assignment was changing the matchstick into a needle flawlessly. The class groaned at their first piece of homework, but Harry still thought something was amiss. His brow was furrowed deep in thought as he walked with Theodore to History of Magic.

He only noticed Malfoy skipping up to them when he was right behind.

"I couldn't believe McGonagall back there Potter. That was worth much more than two points you know?"

"McGonagall has it in for Slytherins. She's Gryffindor's Head of House, of course. My father warned me about her, she pretends she's really fair, but she won't give any extra points to us if she can avoid it…"

Harry made a non-committal noise. Malfoy may have been right and it was just that, but he couldn't get the look she'd given him back before the Sorting, or the one from class just then, out of his head. It was then that he vowed he'd show her he was worth something, Slytherin or not.

Before he could say anything, however, they reached the History of Magic classroom, where they were surprised by the sight of a ghost hovering above the teacher's table.

That class was easily the most boring one Harry had ever sat through. Professor Binns had, apparently, simply left his body behind in the teacher's lounge one day and kept on teaching, such was his single-minded devotion to his field. Unfortunately, that devotion didn't quite reach the point where he was able to motivate his students, or indeed, even keep them awake. Halfway through the lecture, Harry just tuned the man out and started reading the relevant chapters from _A History of Magic_. While Bagshot was Binns' equal in excitement, she managed to be his superior in brevity, so Harry thought his time better spent that way.

Ted spent the entire lecture staring out the window with a dopey smile on his face, and was obviously in his own world. Blaise was playing Noughts and Crosses with Daphne, and everyone else was doing something other than listening to Binns. Fortunately, he seemed oblivious to that fact, and simply droned on in his boring monotone.

* * *

The week flashed by after that. Due to his experience gardening for his degenerate Aunt, Herbology wasn't as much of a bother as it might have otherwise been, though he had to question the wisdom of making this class mandatory. He began to suspect that the whole reason it was part of the curriculum was to bring some of his more pampered classmates down to earth, so to speak. Certainly Draco Malfoy had never weeded out a garden. Though most of the other Slytherins, except himself and, oddly enough, Millicent Bulstrode, struggled a bit with the 'gardening' elements. Of course, for their first few classes they didn't do much of anything with any spectacularly magical plants, so the task wasn't that different from ordinary gardening. Though seeing Ted hold a spade was hilarious—he clearly had no gardening experience either.

The class they had that was most reminiscent of muggle school was astronomy, where they'd climb up the appropriately named Astronomy Tower, every Tuesday night, to gaze at the night skies and learn the movements and positions of the planets and stars. What relevance this had to practising magic, no one ever told him, but he thought it was best just to go along with it.

Harry disliked Charms since the first minute, when the tiny Professor Flitwick was so excited to read his name in the roll call, he fell down from the pile of books he'd climbed atop to be seen by everyone. He found the small man entirely too cheerful. Ted seemed to have a flair for the subject though.

Life in Hogwarts also had some less pleasant aspects. One was the caretaker, Filch, and his security cat, Mrs. Norris. He knew Hogwarts better than anyone, and was always roaming the halls with his feline companion, watching for students breaking rules or making a mess.

Peeves the Poltergeist also roamed the castle, and aside from his feud with Filch, was content with spreading mayhem. Fortunately, the Bloody Baron, the Slytherin House Ghost, was the only one who could control him, so he mostly left the Slytherin students alone.

However, there was something much worse than Peeves and Filch put together.

One afternoon, he was walking to the Great Hall from the library with Blaise, since Theodore had gone off to have some "me time", as he put it. Blaise was quite good at History, for some reason, which made him a good person to have around when doing Binns' homework, and Harry also enjoyed talking to the quick witted boy, who provided an occasionally welcome contrast to Ted's mercurial temperament.

They came upon a shortcut side passage Ted had told him about. Blaise made to open the door when Harry's Dursley upbringing kicked in and made him recognize something was amiss. He wasn't fast enough, however, to stop what happened next. Suspended (he guessed magically) from the doorframe were two goblets filled with weirdly colored liquids. Before he knew it, they were turned over and a cold wave of the unknown potion washed over himself and Blaise.

This was a magical version of something that he had experienced with his cupboard door before. He shuddered at what could be worse than the bucket of cold water he usually experienced. He found out as soon as he opened his eyes. Blaise's entire robes had been changed into Gryffindor red and gold. He looked down at his own, expecting to find the same, but they were still sporting the familiar silver and green. However, he did not have to wait long to find out his much worse fate.

The two redheaded twins, whom he knew from their brother's sorting to be Weasleys, came out from behind an old suit of armour, laughing like they'd just witnessed the world's funniest joke.

"Oh, what have we here, George? Looks like Gryffindor has a new acquisition." Blaise turned red at this and went for his wand, before realizing that he didn't know any magic that could be useful against two third years. The other twin looked at Harry.

"And look Fred, it looks like the Potters may be related to us after all." Harry realized what had happened with a ball of dread in his stomach. He slowly grabbed one tuft of his hair and lowered it down to his eyes, where sure enough, he saw it was just as orange as the twins' own.

He wanted to lunge at them, magic or no magic, but they quickly disappeared, laughing the whole while, before Harry could gather his wits. He was beyond furious. He wanted nothing more than break their stupid grins and infuriating cheerfulness.

The incident did show that his devotion to transfiguration was paying off, for he managed to transfigure Blaise's robes not to their original Slytherin colours, but at least to a non-descript maroon that wouldn't get him kicked out of the Slytherin common room. He then waited for the other boy to bring back some Hair-Colour Restoring Draught. One of the girls would have some, and he absolutely would not be seen by anyone else with _Weasley_ hair. As it was dinner time, it took Blaise an entire hour to return, during which Harry was left to stew in his own rage. He thought he had left this kind of thing behind when he left the Dursleys, but apparently assholery transcended the boundary between the muggle and magical worlds. He wouldn't take it lying down this time though. He promised himself he'd have the last laugh.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was just as much of a joke as Quirrell was. Not only did he constantly stammer, making it hard to understand him and even harder to focus, but his classroom reeked of garlic.

He found himself airing his grievances to Ted as they left the classroom on Thursday evening.

"You know, they don't like us to talk about it, but there's a curse on the Defence Against the Dark Arts position." Ted informed him when they were on their way to the Great Hall. "For decades, no one has been able to hold the position for more than one year, and some of them have even died before the year was out. That's why Dumbledore has trouble finding anyone competent to teach it."

Harry mused at this information. Was it even possible to put a curse on a position like that? Couldn't it be more like a self-fulfilling prophecy? People thought there was a curse, so they didn't plan on teaching for more than one year anyway… Still, something lurked on the back of his mind.

"I've heard Quirrell wasn't always this bad, though," he ventured. "Apparently, he went to get some 'practical experience' last year, and that's what turned him into the wreck he is now. Couldn't Dumbledore see that he wasn't fit to teach anything, much less Defence?"

Ted shrugged. "No one really knows why Dumbledore does anything."

"Yea, probably not even himself," Harry added, his brow furrowed. "Guess I'll just have to learn this subject from the book, too."

"Don't worry, you help me out in Transfiguration and I'll let you use me as a test dummy." Ted replied wryly. Harry chuckled as they finally arrived at the Hall. Dinner was calling.

* * *

The next morning they had potions with the Gryffindors. Aside from the moving stairs, Harry hadn't had any problem finding his way around Hogwarts after the first time. Sometimes he served as a guide for some of his more distracted housemates; fortunately, given how close to the Slytherin common room Snape's classroom was, they didn't need much guidance, and Harry was free to walk at his own leisurely pace. Ted seemed to be looking forward to the class, and word on the street was that Snape was rather liberal with points given to Slytherin. Harry wasn't so sure; he remembered the Potions Master's strange attitude towards him, and thought it better to lie low.

They arrived reasonably early at the classroom, and Harry was free to bask in its grim décor. Preserved remains of animals were stored in jars all over the walls, including what Harry thought was a brain. The Gryffindors arrived slightly later, and it seemed they also knew about Snape's habit of favouring Slytherins, because they all eyed each other warily, as if they were reminding themselves not to step out of line.

Eventually, Snape billowed into the room from his office. He started taking roll call without any greeting, and paused when he reached Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he uttered softly. "Harry Potter. Our new—celebrity." Harry flushed at this and tried very hard to look inconspicuous while still answering his call. What was this guy's problem? Wasn't he supposed to favour Slytherins anyway? Or did Snape's dislike of Harry manage to override his bias towards his own House?

However, Snape soon had his black eyes focused on the class as a whole.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. Harry had to give him one thing: he sure knew how to work a crowd, his soft whisper keeping them all in a silence pregnant with expectation. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

No one really knew what to say, though Harry thought Snape's little speech did manage to make him interested into a subject he had found uninteresting at first glance. Some were a little more enthusiastic, as the Gryffindor girl he'd met on the train, Hermione Granger, who was on the edge of her seat and seemingly eager to start bottling fame.

They were to form pairs to work on a potion, and perhaps to punish him for living, Snape put him with the Granger girl. She clearly hadn't forgotten him either, and seemed just as pleased with the arrangement as Harry was. After they'd gotten the required ingredients, she threw him a glance that reminded him of Aunt Petunia, before she started lecturing him about the boil curing potion they were going to be brewing.

"I can read just fine, you know," he said as he started crushing snake fangs. "Just start stewing those," he added, pointing at a heap of horned slugs.

They worked in cold civility. Aside from that, the class went without incident, except when the Gryffindor Longbottom managed to melt Seamus Finnegan's cauldron and send his potion spilling down into the floor, forcing everyone to stand on their stools. Apparently the potion wasn't very good to begin with, because it actually gave Longbottom, who got it all over himself, red, painful looking boils.

"Idiot boy!" Snape spat, as he vanished the spilled potion with a single wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Longbottom could only whimper at this. Snape went on.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," he spat at Finnegan. Then he turned on Harry and Granger, and Harry expected the worst. Snape himself looked torn between two conflicting impulses, but in the end house pride must have won out, because after a brief pause he glared at the bushy-haired girl.

"You, Granger, why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's one point from Gryffindor."

Granger looked flabbergasted, and Harry himself thought that wasn't very fair, but having grown up with things like that and worse, he just accepted such unfairness as a part of life. He was glad that for once he wasn't their target.

Granger looked ready to protest, but afraid Snape would, if given the opportunity, change his mind and turn on him, Harry threw her a glare that probably conveyed its message, for she backed down, even if she was clearly angry.

She barely spoke for the rest of the class, but Harry did his best to take command and brew what he thought was an acceptable potion.

Finally free for the weekend, and having managed to mostly evade Snape's wrath, Harry was in a good mood as they filed out of class.

As they had a free afternoon, he wandered down to the grounds with Ted and Daphne. It was a beautiful late summer day; the sun was high in the sky, shedding its light on the soft grass, and as the fresh breeze blew through his hair, Harry rested his head against an old beech tree as his body lay on the soft ground, and enjoyed his first Dursley-free weekend in almost a decade. The sunlight danced on his face as the tall branches undulated in the breeze, and he felt, in that fleeting moment, like a forgotten god. He plucked a sourgrass flower and happily chewed on it.

He felt Ted and Daphne sit on each of his sides.

"So, Potter, what was that-" Daphne started but Harry interrupted her without a thought.

"Just call me Harry. Potter's for Gryffindors," he said with a grin. He heard Ted chuckle, and he hoped Daphne smiled, though he didn't bother enough to open his eyes and check.

Her voice did seem light hearted when she spoke next. "Harry," she stressed, "what was that about with Snape when he read the roll call."

Harry frowned. The last thing he wanted to think of right now was Snape, but he was still puzzled about it, so he thought he might as well dive in. He shrugged. "Good question. He looks at me like he hates my guts, though I've no clue why. I was half expecting he was going to lash at me like he did at Longbottom, but I guess house pride won out." He paused. "He did partner me with Granger, which in a way might have been worse."

Ted patted him on the shoulder. "There, there, it's over now."

Harry laughed and, grabbing his hand, pulled him down to his level. "Prat."

This time Daphne did laugh, and stretched her legs lazily. A bird was twittering its song in the branches above. If only he could spend his life in moments like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some inspiration for the Weasley twins insipid prank from a very old video by Mary Katherine Ham.
> 
> I also must credit Brad Neely for the term "security cat" as applied to Mrs. Norris. You should check his Philosopher's Stone movie dubbing on YouTube, called Wizard People, Dear Reader. It's hilarious (if a bit marmite).
> 
> I'd like to remind everyone that while not a lot happened here, I need these introductory chapters to lay the foundation for the rest of the story.
> 
> Once again, I'd love it if you took the time to review. I appreciate concrit, but it is not 'required'. I appreciate every word, so get hung up on that. I just want to know what you think.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, and until the next chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to those of you who've reviewed/commented. I really appreciate your taking the time to do it:  
> To Moonwatchers re: non-Slytherin friends, watch this space. ;) Although it might take him a while to have as deep a friendship with them as with his initial friends.  
> To Trinz re: Bashing: keep in mind Harry may be an unreliable narrator at times. I hope you find I keep on the right line of bashing vs Harry just having less than favourable impressions. 
> 
> Incidentally, I'm still in the market for a beta. Answers on a post-card please.
> 
> I admit that this chapter is mostly ticking a few required boxes, as well as providing character development. However, I'm pleased to announce that the next chapter will have a few more plot points. 
> 
> Same caveats as usual apply, especially regarding some of the dialogue being taken from PS/SS.

* * *

_Robert, there's a war in France;  
Everywhere men bang and blunder,  
Sweat and swear and worship Chance,  
Creep and blink through cannon thunder.  
Rifles crack and bullets flick,  
Sing and hum like hornet-swarms.  
Bones are smashed and buried quick.  
Yet, through stunning battle storms,  
All the while I watch the spark  
Lit to guide me; for I know  
Dreams will triumph, though the dark  
Scowls above me where I go.  
You can hear me; you can mingle  
Radiant folly with my jingle.  
War's a joke for me and you  
While we know such dreams are true!_

_Siegfried Sassoon_

Saturday morning found Harry walking alone to the library. His early-bird habits were not shared by his dorm mates—or many of his housemates, for that matter; the house table was practically deserted. He had downed a piece of toast and a cup of white coffee before he headed to his ultimate destination, the library.

The library, of course, had even less people in it than the breakfast table. That was fine. It wasn't as if people could talk freely there anyway. The old bookshelves made the age of the walls clearer to him than ever, and he felt himself transported to the world of fantasy castles he'd so often dreamt of escaping to during his childhood. But here he was. It still made him grin uncontrollably.

As he walked deep into the library's recesses, he realized he was not alone after all. That Gryffindor, Granger, was there too, poring over a huge tome. Harry would have made a snide remark, except he was going to do exactly the same thing, so that would've been a bit unfair.

As he penetrated further, he spotted someone whom he was much happier to see, his year mate Tracey Davis, who was reading from what appeared to be _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ , and jotting down notes with a frown on her face. It was true that the girl had gawked at him in the boat trip to the school, but she was after all a kid who had probably been raised with all sorts of Boy-Who-Lived tales, so in the interest of harmony, Harry would let it pass. It was the adults who didn't really have any excuse. He hadn't talked much to her, her outburst in Transfiguration notwithstanding, and he thought he might as well make up for that now. He headed towards her table.

"Hello Tracey," he said cheerfully. "Mind if I sit here?"

She looked up from her notes, surprised to see him there.

"Oh, hello Harry. What're you doing here this early?" she said as she smiled at him and pulled her stuff towards her, creating a space for Harry's own junk. Harry laid his backpack on the table and extracted his own copy of the Transfiguration textbook.

"The same as you, I think," he answered. "I was beginning to think I was the only one in our house who likes to do something with his morning."

Tracey smiled. "I've always had to get up pretty early back home," she informed him.

She paused, seeming to have an internal debate over what she was going to say, but eventually, under Harry's inquisitive look, she went on.

"You were really impressive in Transfiguration," she started, clearly embarrassed about what was coming next. "I've been trying to get my matchstick to change into a needle forever now, but I've only been able to make it slightly silver," she finished, biting her lip.

She frowned and seemed even more conflicted. Harry was pretty sure what she was getting at though, and went ahead to spare her the trouble of saying it.

"I've been working at it for a while now, and I think I got the gist of it down. I can try to help you if you want," he said, hoping he'd gotten her intentions right.

He probably did, for she beamed at him.

"Thank you, Harry! I don't really want to disturb your study, though," she said, pointing at his Transfiguration textbook.

"Oh, don't worry about it, I've already got all the stuff for next class done, I was just going to read ahead some. But that can wait," he said.

Tracey seemed impressed at that, but she just nodded.

Harry started from the basics. In truth, getting this opportunity to help someone—teach her, in fact, since she didn't seem to have gotten a lot from class at all—was sure to be beneficial for him too. If he could make her understand this, he would know he definitely had it figured out.

He found out he actually enjoyed it. He'd helped Ted with some things already, but with him it was mostly plugging holes than actually getting the basics down. McGonagall's teaching style was a bit oblique, so Harry wasn't that surprised that some people didn't get it. By the time they were finished, it was almost lunch time, but Tracey was grinning proudly at her newly transfigured needle, and he had hardly felt the time go by.

They were packing their bags, ready to meet up with the rest of the house for lunch in the Great Hall, when Harry noticed Tracey looking at him strangely, like she was itching to ask him something but didn't quite dare to. Harry frowned, thinking it was going to be some boy-who-lived fangirl business, but he was to his surprise found out it was something completely different.

"Harry," she started. She paused for a bit, hesitating, but then finally blurted out. "Have you gotten any trouble from being a half-blood, at all?" she asked, giving him a look like her life was hanging on his answer.

Harry blinked. He felt he probably would think this was worth the bombast if he knew what she was talking about.

"What's a half-blood?" he asked, conscious that this made him look rather ignorant. He just couldn't think of anything else to say.

If Tracey thought that, though, she didn't show it. Rather, she seemed to become even more embarrassed.

"Right, I keep forgetting you were raised by muggles," she bit her lip, as if searching for a way to explain.

"You know how some wizards don't like wizards whose parents are muggles?" she asked.

Harry nodded. That was one of the first things he learned about the wizarding world, after all, thanks to his dear housemate Draco Malfoy.

"Well, even if your parents aren't muggles, if your grandparents weren't all wizards, you're not a pureblood, like them. You're a half-blood."

Harry nodded again to show he was listening.

"That's us," she said, and now Harry was really paying attention. "Me because my mother is a muggle, you because your grandparents on your mother's side were." She hesitated before rushing on.

"And, well, they look down on us too, some of them. You know how Slytherin is about pure bloodlines..."

"Has anyone said anything to you?" Harry interrupted her. He wasn't sure there was anything in it, but some of the older students did give off some weird vibes.

"Well, no one has really said anything. But, sometimes I feel like they look down on me," she bit her lip. "Maybe I'm just imagining things…" she trailed.

"Until today, I didn't even know there was such a thing as a half-blood," Harry replied with a shrug, "but even then, I think being the Boy Who Lived probably would outweigh that for me. Some of the older students though seem to give me weird looks, so who knows." He looked at her. "But if someone gives you grief about it, they weren't worth your time in the first place. They're the ones with a problem, Tracey."

They talked for a little more about it; Harry knew a lot about idiotic prejudice after all. At the end, as they finally walked to the Great Hall, Tracey seemed much happier with herself than she had been when he found her. Despite not having gone exactly according to his plans, Harry couldn't help but think the morning had been put to a rather good use.

* * *

Soon there came a reason for much joy among the first years. A notice in the Slytherin common room announced that flying lessons were due to start next Thursday. Unfortunately, they were to be shared with Gryffindors, and Harry was sure something bad was going to happen. Years of living with the Dursleys had given him an almost instinctive sense of when things were about to go wrong. Besides, he did not much fancy the idea of getting his feet off the ground on something as fragile as a broom, magic or no magic.

If he was to believe his housemates, half of them were accomplished fliers. Draco Malfoy in particular was always complaining about how unfair it was that first years were not allowed on house Quidditch teams, and regaling them with tales of his airborne escapades that almost always ended up in collisions with what he called 'holocopters'. Harry didn't bother to correct him, and took all those stories with a whole salt shaker. If Dudley was anything to judge by, what people bragged about usually fell far short of their actual accomplishments.

Harry's feelings of dread only increased during Thursday morning's breakfast, when the post owls swooped down into the great hall to deliver their loads. Malfoy got a package of sweets, as usual, which he showed off like it was some huge deal. Harry never got anything, obviously, but he had enough perspective to realize a few chocolates were hardly an amazing show of status.

However, at the Gryffindor table, Neville Longbottom had also received something, and Malfoy just couldn't let him be. Harry was walking behind him with Ted, headed toward the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, when Malfoy stopped by the Gryffindor table and snatched a glass ball from Longbottom's hand. Finnegan and Weasley jumped to their feet, seemingly eager to fight Malfoy. The blond had apparently got into some altercation with them in the halls a couple of days ago; that was just typical Malfoy. As was this, come to think of it.

Further escalation was avoided when Professor McGonagall swooped in, addressing Malfoy. "Is there a problem here?" she asked curtly.

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor," a rather overwhelmed Longbottom replied.

Malfoy, of course, immediately deflated, dropping the 'Remembrall' back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, scurrying off with Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry couldn't help but see the entire exchange as a dark omen. Despite that, the day was relatively uneventful until the Slytherin first years finally headed to the grounds for the flying lessons. The wind blew through Harry's hair, making it even more messy than usual, as he walked towards a flat lawn where several brooms were laying in the ground waiting for them.

Apparently, the Slytherins were the first to arrive, so they just loitered around waiting for the Gryffindors. Harry sat on a rock and looked around, not pleased with what awaited him.

"Say, Ted, am I the only one with a feeling of impending doom?" he asked the taller boy from his stony seat. He never got to hear the answer, because the Gryffindors came running into the lawn, distracting everyone. Harry stood up shortly thereafter, when the flying instructor, Madam Hooch, arrived. She watched them all with her piercing yellow eyes.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she yelled. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry did as instructed, despite the fact that his broomstick clearly had seen better days.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," Madam Hooch was telling them, "and say 'UP'".

Harry delved deep into his stoicism reserves. He would have to get through this, and the sooner the better. As he yelled 'UP', he was one of the few whose broom had responded to the summons. The only others were, surprisingly, Crabbe and Goyle, perhaps because they were too dumb to feel apprehension. After a few more tries, however, everyone managed to hold their broomstick in their hands.

Madam Hooch then proceeded to show them all how to correctly mount their brooms, walking up and down correcting everyone's grips. She told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years. This prompted laughs from the Gryffindors, making Harry roll his eyes. Madam Hooch raised her whistle to her lips.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, kick off from the ground, hard," she said. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle: three, two…"

But Neville Longbottom's broom seemed too eager to get off the ground, and the Gryffindor was off before Madam Hooch could finish her count.

"Come back, boy," she shouted, but Neville was rising too fast, straight up, twenty feet into the air. The boy was holding tight, afraid the heavy wind would knock him down to the ground, but his grip wasn't strong enough, and the next moment he was falling. He landed with a heavy thud. Harry cringed as he heard the crack from the boy's breaking wrist. His broom was still ascending, losing itself in the skies above the Forbidden Forest. Madam Hooch rushed towards the fallen Gryffindor, her face blanching.

"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter, confirming what he'd just figured. "Come on, boy, it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the Hospital Wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear," she said to Neville in a much kinder voice, and then proceeded to lead the tearful boy towards the school.

Malfoy broke into laughter as soon as she was out of sight.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?" he said, to laughs from his usual gang. Harry, however, wasn't paying attention to him. He saw a glimmer in the grass, and bent down to investigate.

Sure enough, Longbottom's Remembrall, whatever that was, laid there on the soft lawn. Harry stretched forth and picked it up. Just as he had finished straightening himself and was ready to put it in his pocket, the Gryffindor Ronald Weasley took a step in Harry's direction, facing him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Potter?" the redhead yelled at him. Unfortunately, since the wind was blowing at Harry's back, much of the intended effect was lost on the Gryffindors standing at Weasley's back. Nevertheless, Harry was irked.

"I'm taking it for safe-keeping," he retorted with as much dignity as he could muster, dropping it in his pocket. Weasley was not impressed.

"Safe-keeping? Yeah, right, more like he'll never see it back, eh, Potter? Give me that now," he said, increasingly flustered, and punctuated his demand by pulling out his wand.

Harry instinctively went for his. This idiot thought that because he was in Slytherin, he was going to steal the dumb thing. He really couldn't care less what Weasley thought as long as he kept it to himself, but now he had to nip this thing in the bud. Harry could never stand up to Dudley effectively, because he was forced to live with him, but from watching other kids, he knew that was the key to make him leave you alone. Never let him get a foothold.

"Oh yeah? Or you'll do what?" Harry retorted. He had to buy time. He hadn't covered enough ground in Defence Against the Dark Arts to know any spells to use against the redhead, though he seriously doubted Weasley did either. However, he wanted to decisively end this before it began. As the redhead sputtered for an answer, confirming Harry's opinion that the wand drawing was just a bluff, Harry saw the sun's reflection on Weasley's robe buttons, and a great idea occurred to him.

He said a silent prayer for what he was about to do to work. He quickly raised his wand, and then brought it down in a straight line, with a few well practised waves here and there, and carefully enunciated the words under his breath. Providence must have been on his side, for just as he had finished, a massive gust of wind blew on his back and Weasleys face. Harry saw instantly that his transfiguration worked; where once were buttons, now were only balls of string. These couldn't possibly hold the robe in place, and the heavy wind blew it back, exposing Weasley's underpants for the world to see. The Slytherins on Harry's sides erupted with laughter, as Weasley tried desperately to get his robe to close again, but the wind wasn't making his job any easier. Harry had been kind enough to leave the top button intact, which kept the garment close around the other boy's neck, but somehow Harry didn't think he would appreciate the gesture.

Eventually, Weasley managed to get his robe in order, with a blushing Granger transfiguring back the now dangling pieces of string into buttons, at which, Harry noted with pleasure, she had quite a harder time at than she would have liked, judging from the frown on her face. The Gryffindors had been too busy helping the redhead to do anything, and they didn't want to provoke an all out rumble anyway. Weasley, however, was about to lunge back at Harry when Madam Hooch returned from the Castle.

"You're all still here, are you? I'm glad you knew better than to try any monkey business," she hollered at them as she approached. Weasley clearly made to say something, but Harry cut him off, extracting the Remembrall from his pocket.

"Madam Hooch, Longbottom dropped this when he fell off his broom," he said, holding the glass ball in front of him. Madam Hooch nodded and made for him to throw it back at her. He did, and she caught it with impressive dexterity.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. Five points to Slytherin, for looking out for a fellow student's belongings," she said. The Gryffindors grumbled at this.

"But Madam Hooch…" Weasley tried to interject, but the flying instructor just cut him off.

"Not now, Mr. Weasley, we've wasted too much time already. We only have a few minutes left, but I want you all to try floating a few feet above the ground, gently now," they all mounted their brooms again as she finished this. "Three, two, one," she said, ending the sentence with a blow on her whistle.

They started floating, slowly rising above the ground, and Harry noted his fellow Slytherins were rather discreetly flying between him and the Gryffindors. Now that he was above the ground, flying wasn't nearly as bad as he expected. He liked feeling the wind on his face and the amazing freedom of being airborne. He ended up being admonished by Madam Hooch for trying to climb too high, but the lesson was over soon anyway. They disposed of their brooms and made their way back into the Castle. His fellow Slytherins were rather enthusiastic.

"That was brilliant, Harry. The look on his face when the wind blew his robe was just priceless," Daphne told him with a rather malicious grin on her face. "Not to mention, now we all know Weasley wears tighty-whities."

They all laughed at that. Even Malfoy patted him in the back. "Real smooth, Potter."

Harry wasn't exactly eager to get Malfoy's approval, and he thought the blonde had been just as much of an asshole as Weasley when he made fun of Longbottom's fall, but he would be lying to say it didn't give him an ego boost to see everyone congregating around him. It was the exact opposite of primary school.

"Where the hell did you get that idea, Harry?" Ted asked him as they reached the Castle and split off.

"Oh, I've been practising Transfiguration a lot," he said, "and I had a moment's inspiration when I saw his buttons glisten in the sun."

"Wow, you _are_ really good at Transfiguration, aren't you? I've barely managed to turn that damn matchstick into a needle," Ted grumbled.

"Don't worry. Here," he said, pulling open the door of an unused classroom, "I'll give you my best tips. I think I really figured this out this weekend."

"Oh, so that's what you were doing in the library all Saturday."

Harry nodded.

"That's right," he said as he sat down and produced his now rather over-used matchstick. He motioned for Ted to sit down beside him and opened the textbook in front of them. "But after this, I want us to work on some good hexes." Harry's voice hardened. "I don't want to have to depend on heat-of-the-moment inspiration if something like what went on with Weasley happens again."

Ted nodded, grinning. "We won't have to look far. I told you I read a lot these past years. I know exactly where to look."

Harry nodded, grinning back, and proceeded to explain the basis behind the simpler transfiguration wand movements. Maybe omens were just Providence's way of letting him know the golden ball of opportunity was about to fly his way.

* * *

Weasley never spoke to him again, thankfully. Days seemed to blur as Harry entered into the routine of magical classes. He never stopped being amazed at the new things he learned he could do with a wave of his wand, though. However, the magical world was not without its dangers.

One Friday night, as they lounged about in the common room, delaying going to bed, Ted approached him with a secretive look.

"There's something you've gotta see," he whispered, making sure no one could overhear.

Harry raised his eyebrow.

"What, right now?" Harry asked, glancing at the wall clock to see it was five past ten, and thus, well after curfew.

"Oh, come on, Harry, you're not afraid of Filch are you? I've done this loads of times, just do as I tell you and we'll be fine."

Harry wasn't really afraid of Filch, but he was appropriately leery of the consequences of being caught out-of-bounds by him. Still, Ted seemed so invested in this that he didn't have the heart to say no. He nodded slowly.

Ted's face split into a grin.

"Great, let's just wait until these guys go to bed," he said, pointing out the few remaining occupants of the common room.

They waited quite long for the room to vacate, though they used the time to finish the homework they'd been assigned for the weekend. Finally, the last of the occupants, a group of sixth years, left to their dormitory. Ted waited a couple of minutes to make sure they didn't return before he rose.

"Ready?" he asked with a grin. Harry got up with a sigh and followed him.

They left the common room and proceeded silently up the dark corridors. Ted kept checking his watch.

"Prefects are very predictable," he explained in a whisper. "They'll mostly do their rounds exactly the same every night."

Harry had to admit that the taller boy seemed to have crawled out from a spy movie. Not that Ted would be flattered by the comparison. But the way he was able to move without a sound in the dark silence of the night was very impressive.

Despite the darkness, Harry was sure they would be spotted climbing the various stairways they went through. However, they managed to get off them in the third floor with no one the wiser. They took a right turn, and then, as they were passing a rather elaborate tapestry of what looked like a Goblin fight, something clicked in Harry's brain.

"Hey, this isn't _the_ third-floor corridor, is it?" Harry asked, wondering whether he'd misjudged his friend's mental stability.

Ted looked back over his shoulder and gave him what he thought was a rather self-satisfied smirk.

"The one and only. But don't worry, there is really no risk of death, painful or otherwise, as long as you're careful," he whispered back, and then after a thorough look around, gave a final lurching run towards a closed door at the end of the corridor.

"Somehow, that doesn't really reassure me," Harry muttered under his breath, though he _was_ a bit reassured. If Ted was saying that, it was because he'd already gone in and lived to tell the tale. Still, no point in telling him that.

Ted ignored Harry's words and stopped in front of the door. He whipped out his wand as Harry was closing in.

"Now, you're going to have to look fast. I'm just going to open the door a bit, so just stick your head in and pull back," Ted warned him.

Harry nodded, praying that Ted knew what he was doing.

" _Alohomora_ ," he heard the taller boy say, as he tapped the lock with his wand. Ted quickly pulled the handle, giving Harry a crack just wide enough to stick his head into, which Harry did reluctantly.

His reluctance was fully justified when he found himself staring into the yellow eyes of a very large dog. He also found six suspicious eyes glaring at him sideways, for the dog had not one head but three. It was all he could do not to scream, but he didn't want to alert anyone, so he just pulled his head back as far as he could. Ted had been ready for his reaction, and he quickly closed the door and tapped the lock with his wand again.

Harry looked at his friend, slackjawed. He was going to speak, but Ted raised a finger to his lips and whispered, "Let's get back first," and put his words into action by starting to move away from the door.

They managed to return to the common room fairly quickly, Harry remembering the way better than Ted himself. They would have been even faster if not for the need to avoid Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, who almost caught them. They only managed to escape by sprinting out of the way and taking a rather roundabout series of passages. Still, they'd made it.

"Desire the right," Harry said to the wall, something he always felt somewhat foolish doing. Still, it opened on command, letting them in.

Fortunately, the common room was still empty, so they wouldn't have to explain their arrival in the dead of night to anyone. They plopped down in the same chairs they were occupying right before they left.

"Explain," Harry sternly told Ted. He was fairly certain the other boy hadn't been trying to kill him, but still, he couldn't be sure.

Ted looked back at him with an impish grin. He didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed.

"Oh, come on, I just figured they wouldn't really keep anything in the school that would kill a student just for looking at it. The door wasn't even locked well, seeing a first year can open it."

Harry had to give him that. It _was_ weird, now that he thought of it.

"And I myself did what you just did, you know, and I was alone at the time," Ted continued. "The big brute has a slow reaction time, anyway."

Harry grinned. The dog really didn't seem very bright. Maybe that was because the three heads fought each other for control. Regardless, only one question came to Harry's mind.

"Why would Dumbledore keep something like that in a school full of young, edible children?" Harry asked, eyebrow raised.

Ted laughed.

"Gallows humour, Harry? Anyway, your theory that he is insane would seem to explain it. Probably one of his friends asked Dumbledore to watch over it while they went on vacation, or something."

Ted stifled a yawn.

Harry wondered whether that was an attempt to forestall more discussion, but let it go, since he was almost asleep himself, now that the adrenaline rush had passed. He made his way towards the dorms with Ted, and punched his arm midway.

"That was for the scare, but," he grinned, "it was wicked."

Ted laughed softly, clutching his arm in exaggerated pain.

* * *

It seemed the school year had barely started when Halloween was upon them. His classes were getting progressively more challenging, but that was fine by Harry. He just wished he could skip History of Magic and Defence and just learn them on his own, but he had to take the good with the bad.

That afternoon, they started to learn to levitate objects in Charms. Everyone had been quite eager to try their hand at that after Flitwick's demonstration, when he sent an inkpot zooming around the classroom without spilling a single drop. Harry had to admit that Flitwick wasn't as bad as he'd seemed at first, and he was starting to forgive his outburst in that first class.

Flitwick split them into pairs to start practising the spell. He got paired with Daphne, for which he was quite thankful given he had found himself sitting next to Crabbe and was already dreading the possibility. Ted got partnered with Pansy Parkinson, which seemed to have Draco ticked off for some reason.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practising!" Flitwick squeaked from atop his pile of books. Harry wondered why he didn't just levitate himself. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too—never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest!"

Well, he didn't get very far. The feather could have weighed a hundred pounds for all the good his swishing and flicking did. No one else had much luck, until Ted managed to lift his feather five minutes before the end of class, which seemed to make Flitwick rather happy. Understandably, as having no one succeed would have been rather depressing for him. They filed out of class rather cheerful for the Halloween feast.

"The weird thing is, I don't know if I'd be able to do it again if he asked me," Ted confided as they were descending the stairs towards the Great Hall. Once they arrived, all thoughts of the Charms lesson were forgotten.

Thousands of bats were flying all over the great hall, swooping down over the tables, which made a great effect, but Harry also thought was rather unhygienic. He'd be sure to cover his food. As they were sitting down, Harry glanced along the other house tables and couldn't help but notice Weasley looked rather constipated. He shrugged. Who cared about him anyway?

Harry was about to take a bite from a delicious looking piece of turkey when Professor Quirrell came storming into the hall, looking like he'd just seen a ghost. He reached the high table, facing Professor Dumbledore, and slumped against a chair as he managed to gasp out words between heaving breaths.

"Troll—in the dungeons—thought you ought to know," he managed to say, before collapsing on the floor in a faint.

The entire hall erupted in hysteria, and panic seemed about to set in until Professor Dumbledore blew a dozen of firecrackers from the tip of his wand, which managed to restrain the crowd.

"Prefects, lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately," Dumbledore said, with an impressively loud voice for a man his age.

The Slytherin Prefect Heathcliff rounded up the younger years, clearly displeased with his task. They were practically pushed out of the great hall when Harry remembered something that made him sure the Headmaster was insane.

"Say Heathcliff," Harry began, "Professor Quirrell said the troll was in the dungeons, right?"

"Your point, Potter?" the Prefect rasped out.

"Aren't _our dorms_ in the dungeons too? You know, the ones we have to go back to?"

Everyone stopped dead in their tracks as Harry finished his sentence, as he had to talk rather loudly for his voice to reach Heathcliff. This time there was no shrieking, as the Slytherins were usually a more subdued lot anyway, but Harry could feel the tension caused by his words in the air. Everyone was alert, trying to listen for any sign of the troll approaching. Harry felt someone grab his arm, and looked to his side to see Tracey clinging to it. She quickly let it go once she noticed him looking at her, blushing profusely; Harry thought she must have done it reflexively, but she looked away from him, embarrassed anyway. Heathcliff, of course, was not paying attention to this.

"Well fuck," he exclaimed, prompting a few shocked murmurs from some of the more prudish younger years. "They're probably gonna have my head for this, but…"

He trailed off as he looked around, and finally saw their salvation. He rushed to a door at the end of the corridor, wand at the ready. As the troll still seemed to be nowhere near, he opened the door for them to enter.

"But that's a girls' bathroom," Harry heard someone object.

"Good, that means if anyone has to go we're covered. Now get in, this isn't a time to be worrying about that shit," Heathcliff replied rather menacingly.

Everyone complied after that. When the last of the younger years had come in, the older boy closed the door and waved his wand over it in a series of complicated motions, muttering under his breath all the time. Everyone watched his movements expectantly, and they only relaxed when he finally spoke, after a couple of minutes.

"Well, no troll's getting in after that," the Prefect announced, to their visible relief. Harry turned to Ted, who was leaning against a stall wall, and made to say something, but stopped after the taller boy raised his finger to his lips.

"There's someone in there," he whispered. Harry tried to listen closely, and indeed he seemed to hear something coming from within the stall. Daphne, who was just next to them, solved the mystery rather quickly.

"Whoever's there, I'm gonna open the door," she announced, and after giving whoever was in the stall a perfunctory time to get decent, she pushed the door open, to reveal a sniffing Hermione Granger.

She flinched back when she saw the crowd that had invaded the bathroom.

"What are you all doing here? This is the girls' bathroom," she said, managing not to burst into tears despite her obviously shaken state. Harry had to grudgingly admire her for that.

Heathcliff was on top of the issue in an instant.

"And why haven't you gone to your dormitories, girl? Don't you know there's a troll in the school?"

Granger blanched at this. Well, even more than was already the case.

"A troll? But how did it get in? And what are we going to do? Are we all going to die?" she fretted, talking faster with each sentence.

Heathcliff opened his mouth to answer, but before he could say anything, they heard the sound of what seemed like a battering ram knocking on the door. People started fidgeting, but their Prefect was quick to calm them down.

"Now, don't lose your head, kids. There's no way some dumb troll can get through the spells I put on that door."

That at least quieted them, but no one dared to speak as the knocks increased in frequency. Granger had stopped sniffing and was watching the door as raptly as any of them. After what seemed like an eternity, the knocks stopped, and after a brief moment of expectant silence, more noise was heard, as if the troll was fighting for its life, until finally they heard a huge thud.

They looked at each other, wondering if that meant a teacher had taken care of the troll. Their question was answered when they heard Professor McGonagall's voice.

"Why is this door locked? Is anyone in there?" she asked.

Their Prefect quickly undid all the spells and opened the door, to find Professors McGonagall, Snape and Quirrell staring at him.

"Mr. Heathcliff, what are you doing here? Why haven't you led your class to the dormitories like Professor Dumbledore ordered?" McGonagall asked him, frowning in disapproval.

"Well, Professor, I was doing so, but Potter here - " he said, pointing at Harry with his thumb. Harry cringed and wished he could make himself invisible. The Prefect went on, oblivious, "-pointed out, that since our dorms are in the dungeons, it wasn't such a good idea to go there, seeing as the troll was supposed to be in the dungeons in the first place," he finished. Harry saw Snape giving him a strange, calculating look. Heathcliff went on.

"I ordered them all into this bathroom, and fortified the door with spells a troll wouldn't be able to counter. I thought it was safer this way. We also found the Gryffindor girl here, who probably was not in the Great Hall when Professor Quirrell so _bravely_ warned us of the troll," he said with barely restrained sarcasm.

Granger came forward when she heard this, her head down as she approached Professor McGonagall. She seemed to have composed herself a bit.

"He's right, Professor McGonagall. I missed dinner tonight." She seemed close to breaking down again, but held on. "If they didn't stop to use this bathroom to stay in, the troll would probably have killed me," she said, sounding like she thought that was an attractive option. Harry wondered what could have happened to leave her in such a state.

McGonagall seemed like she was going to say something, but Snape cut her off.

"Mr. Heathcliff, we will be having a talk about this later. For now, lead the students to their dormitory. As you no doubt have surmised, the troll has been…dealt with."

All their heads perked up, trying to catch a glimpse of the fallen troll, but they couldn't see anything from where they were. It didn't matter, for soon they were all up and filing out the door. Granger had left with Professor McGonagall, and now the Prefect was herding them out. As Harry crossed the door, he noticed the disgusting smell of the troll, and saw its unconscious form, lying on the floor beside its club. Harry was following the line when Snape laid a hand on his shoulder. Harry stopped in his tracks and left the line, facing the professor. He swallowed hard. He knew something like this was coming, but was expecting Snape to at least wait until the morning. He bit his lip and faced his head of house.

"Yes, Professor?" he said looking up into Snape's eyes, trying to keep his composure. When Harry made eye contact, Snape's guarded expression changed for a moment into a look Harry couldn't decipher. Harry felt a strange sensation in his mind, like odd thoughts were coming up to the surface uninvited. However, he held his gaze. The professor seemed to have lost his train of thought for a moment, then sighed and finally spoke.

"Potter, I'll have you know that it is the custom of this school for students to obey the orders of their teachers."

Harry swallowed, steeling himself for what was to come.

"However, you certainly had the safety of your housemates in mind, and Mr. Heathcliff did not have to go by anything you said." Snape's face seemed to contort in a great mental effort before he continued. "Not to mention, it showed more presence of mind than I believed you were capable of. Five points to Slytherin, Potter. Now go join your classmates before they leave you behind."

Harry nodded. "Thank you, sir," he said simply, and turned back, hardly believing what had just happened. He looked back for a second, and saw Snape pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. Harry decided to run before the professor changed his mind. He quickly found his friends in the line of students.

"What was that about?" Daphne asked him, curiosity shining on her green eyes, which were a shade lighter than Harry's own. He'd never met anyone else with green eyes before, now that he thought of it. He shook his head and brought his thoughts back to the present, answering the girl's question.

"Five points to Slytherin," he said simply, and a smile crossed his face. Blaise patted him on the back. Their common room was rapidly approaching, and only then did he realize he hadn't actually eaten any dinner. As if on cue, he felt his stomach rumble.

"Say, do any of you have any snacks back in the dorm?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are. I had to go through a lot of canon scene rehashes here, though I do think I did so originally. What do you think?
> 
> As usual, I appreciate reviews. I hope you enjoyed this and keep reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Hagrid is hard. 
> 
> Thank you very much to everyone who has reviewed. I appreciate every word. 
> 
> Still looking for a beta.

_"Though you are in your shining days,_  
_Voices among the crowd_  
_And new friends busy with your praise,_  
_Be not unkind or proud,_  
_But think about old friends the most:_  
_Time's bitter flood will rise,_  
_Your beauty perish and be lost_  
_For all eyes but these eyes."_

_William Butler Yeats_

Fall in the Scottish Highlands turned out to be much like Winter back in Surrey. Harry wondered how cold it would get. It was a Friday night, and Harry was walking down a dimly lit corridor with Ted. Curfew was relaxed on Fridays and Saturdays; of course, curfew never bothered Ted, but Harry was a bit less sanguine about such things. The consequences of rule breaking at the Dursleys were seldom light, and he didn't see any reason to flout them unless he needed to. Old habits died hard.

The clouds that had been pouring their contents on the surrounding country had mostly left, and a full moon shone its pale light through the windows. The smell of freshly wetted earth reached Harry's nose, coming up from the grounds, through the open windows, as if beckoning them outside. It was a beautiful night, and it looked like the next day was going to be one of those sunny days that sometimes grace early November.

This was just as well; the first Quidditch game of the season, Slytherin v. Gryffindor , was scheduled for the next day. It was going to be the first Quidditch game Harry had ever seen, and he was rather curious about the wizard sport.

In the past couple of weeks, the game hype had been building up. Harry hadn't known about the game at first, but he had gotten a quick 401 from Daphne. She was a fanatical supporter of the only all female Quidditch team, the Holyhead Harpies, and told him all he ever wanted to hear about the game, and then more. If Harry was not that excited about it, it was because her enthusiasm had been tempered by Ted, who was not a big fan of the sport, though he still planned on going to cheer for Slytherin like everybody else. They needed all the cheering they could get, as the other three houses usually united against them.

"So, is Daphne going to try to get into the Quidditch team next season?" Ted asked, breaking the silence they had kept ever since they strayed into those dark, seldom walked corridors. After the initial discussion, Ted tended to tune out the Quidditch talk. In truth, Harry was starting to as well. The game had better be worth it.

"Have you seen her during the flying lessons?" Harry replied. "She's _good_."

She _was_ good. Harry hadn't ever actually seen what type of maneuvers Quidditch players had to perform, but he could tell Daphne on a broom was not to be taken lightly. Oddly enough, only himself and maybe Draco Malfoy were at her level.

"So are you." Ted replied simply. "Are you going to try?" Harry shrugged.

He had indeed found, to his surprise, that he was actually very good on a broom. Probably the best in his year, in fact. However, that didn't mean he was prepared to commit to school sports.

"Well, I have to see it first, don't I?" Harry replied noncommittally, but he didn't think that was likely. The discipline required for team sports just seemed… stifling, somehow. He definitely agreed with Ted on that.

He had just finished speaking when something in the air seemed to shift. Harry couldn't explain it, but the silence, which before had seemed to snuggle around them so naturally that it had seemed almost sacrilegious to break it; now, it was just tense, like the calm before the storm. Harry had a lot of experience in gauging ambients, but he couldn't articulate this in any way that would make sense to Ted, so he just looked around warily. He could sense the danger but not the source.

It was then that he saw it. He knew he couldn't move away in time, but he could limit the damage. He turned around and threw himself backwards, throwing himself down in such a manner that he pushed Ted ahead of him.

They almost escaped. What Harry could only describe as a jet powered bottle flew straight at them; their dive left them only barely in its path, but that was all that it took. If he had moved a second earlier, he could have probably avoided the huge blow to the head he took from the base end of a green glass bottle.

The bottle seemed to be propelled by a jet of a muddy looking liquid, though Harry suspected it was really powered by magic. He didn't have a lot of time to think about it, however, as he felt his head explode into a blast of pain as the glass broke into countless pieces and his skin was showered with the unknown liquid—evidently a potion, for he felt the most painful boils appear on his face almost instantly.

He realized that Ted had been hit too, though fortunately rather less, as Harry had shielded him from most of the impact. The last thing he noticed before everything turned to black was how the boils in Ted's skin formed a pattern rather like the Gryffindor house crest, and how two unfortunately familiar laughs sounded in the background.

Harry woke up in strange surroundings. He was lying in a bed with linen sheets, the walls around him bare white, in contrast to the much somber room he had in his dorm in the dungeons. He only barely noticed any of this, however, as his head felt like it was about to explode and his skin as if he had just rubbed it with sandpaper. It did seem, as he started recalling past events, that whatever boils may have been inflicted upon him were gone, however. Still, the shock from the sudden hammer in his skull made him groan involuntarily and close his eyes shut again.

"Harry, you're awake!"

"Daphne?" Harry managed to mumble. "Where am I? What the hell happened?"

"You're in the hospital wing." As she spoke, Harry was finally able to open his eyes. Daphne went on as he reached for his glasses.

"You've been out for a while. Apparently Theodore had to drag you here across half the school."

Harry finally managed to put his glasses into place, and looked at the girl sitting beside his bed. She was glancing over him with a worried expression. "You don't remember what happened?" she asked, as if trying to gauge whether he had suffered brain damage. Harry rubbed his temples.

"I do, now. Sorta," he replied, frowning. It was coming back to him in bits and pieces. "Where's Ted?"

"Madam Pomfrey's checking him over. He's been awake for a while."

"Madam Pomfrey?" Harry asked.

"The school nurse, you know? I didn't see you two come back so I asked Professor Snape about you, after the game. He told me you two were here, so I came right up."

"Wait, after the game? It's already Saturday?" How long had he been out?

"Yea, you've been out since last night until now, apparently. Theodore's woken up a while ago, and since he probably doesn't want me there while he's being checked up, I came to check on you," she said, grinning. "Apparently they had to put you out to regrow your skin." She paused. "How did that happen, Harry?"

Harry told her, as best he could patch things together, including who he was almost sure were the culprits. When he was finished, all Daphne had to say was:

"Well, what are you going to do about them?" She jumped from up. "I'm sure you want to get dressed, so I'll tell Madam Pomfrey you're up."

She ran out, and right before closing the door, turned back and grinned. "Oh, yea, we won," she said, closing the door behind her.

Harry was left there alone to contemplate his options. As he put his clothes on, he pondered.

* * *

As Christmas break neared, their schoolwork seemed to soar, and not even Quidditch obsession was able to distract any of Harry's yearmates from dedicating most of their time to study. However, as with everything, there were still some lulls, and this was one of them.

It was a Friday afternoon, and they were blessed with the miracle of a sunny, albeit cold, winter day. Harry had used this chance to return to his spot under the old birch tree on the edge of the grounds. Even though the weather had forced him to turn out the warm clothing in force—it was cold enough that there was still dew on the ground, which he had protected himself from through the clever use of a pilfered blanket—he sat against the tree's fearsome trunk with his notebook on his knees, telling himself he was going to start his homework now.

Ted, delicate flower that he was, opted to stay inside catching up on his sleep, but Daphne had eagerly followed Harry to the grounds. She was currently sitting on one of the tree's mighty branches, after a feat of climbing that showed more gymnastic skills than he imagined her to have, especially considering she was wearing a school robe.

He laid aside his parchment, telling himself what he already knew-he would finish it later. Probably in the evening before the due date. He looked around, basking in the glorious landscape of the Scottish Highlands.

As his eyes wandered, they settled upon a small cabin on the edge of the grounds. Smoke was escaping from the roof, though Harry could see no chimney. He wandered if the roof simply had a hole to let the smoke out, and shuddered at the thought of the cold winter winds sweeping in.

Harry thought the cabin managed to look both cozy and ramshackle at the same time, and found himself smiling. Harry was startled from his forgotten contemplation when he saw the cabin's door opening suddenly, with a creak that the wind carried to his ears through the silence.

His attention now on the doorframe, he saw Hagrid emerge from the cabin's dim interior and step out. As if he had been reading Harry's thoughts, he was carrying a tall wooden ladder he laid against the outer wall. As Hagrid began to climb, Harry wondered what sort of wood was able to bear the man's enormous frame. Then he remembered. The ladder was probably charmed to be unbreakable. He couldn't help but bring forth a smile at the thought.

Hagrid was busying himself fiddling with the place on the roof Harry had seen the smoke exit just a few moments before. It seemed Hagrid was vulnerable to the elements after all.

Harry felt a pang of guilt thinking of the man. He had been the one to introduce him to the wizard world, rescuing him from his evil family who had gone to amazing lengths to prevent Harry from attending Hogwarts. To top it off, he had bought him Hedwig as a birthday present, as if getting away from the Dursleys wasn't enough of a present to make up for the 10 years of presents he missed. Yet, Harry still had not said one word to him ever since he arrived at Hogwarts.

He tried to tell himself he hadn't had the time, but he knew that wasn't true. The reason was that the few times the groundskeeper came up in conversation among the Slytherins, his mention was always accompanied by snide remarks and laughs. Harry thought that was unfair, and was reminded that for all that he had found a measure of acceptance, his housemates could still be bigoted and mean. He knew better than to say anything though. His pre-Hogwarts years had taught him that could bring all pain and no gain. He just told himself they didn't know any better than the way they were raised.

However, as he saw Hagrid lower his arm into the hole on the cabin's roof Harry had seen earlier, and pull out what seemed to be a makeshift chimney from inside, Harry remembered _he_ did not have that excuse. He knew what it was like to be on the receiving side of snide asides. Harry decided he would be a better man and try to make up for his faults by paying a visit to the groundskeeper. He just hoped he had not waited too long that his bridges had burnt.

Harry had so lost himself ruminating on these thoughts, that he was startled when Daphne broke the silence.

"Do you think we're gonna have snow this weekend, Harry?"

Harry looked up to see Daphne peering down at him, her long black hair cascading down from her head toward the ground. He was a bit startled by the sight of his friend looming so strangely over him, but he let his gaze reach ahead to the sky instead, where he could see the growing wind was pushing heavy dark clouds toward their location. From what little he had learnt in primary school about the weather in the Scottish Highlands, Harry thought that it was, indeed, very likely that they would have snow.

"Wouldn't surprise me, Daph. Do you have any idea how much snow this area" he waved his arm around in a vague attempt to embrace the vastness of the mountains around them "usually gets?"

Daphne frowned in thought, though only after pulling herself up to a more stable position, for which Harry silently gave thanks. "Well, my parents weren't very specific, but they said it was quite more than we get in Norfolk." She jumped down to his side. "Which probably means it isn't going to get any hotter. Shall we go inside Harry?"

Harry started to lift himself up to go back, looking behind regretfully. He didn't think his friends would really accept that he be friendly with Hagrid. Not yet, anyway. Well, to tell the truth, he wasn't really sure about it, but he thought it better to be cautious, since after all, he had to live with them, not Hagrid. Besides, he liked his new friends; even if he had never had any others, he knew Dudley's friends, and thought his own were much better. Possible prejudices and all, he still liked them, but he still knew in his heart giving Hagrid the cold shoulder was wrong. Looking behind regretfully, he walked behind Daphne back to the castle.

* * *

By mid-December, all their worst fears about the Highlands weather had proven to pale in comparison to reality. It was the first day of Christmas break, and all of Harry's year mates were going home to stay with their family. Harry himself would not, of course, since he would never willingly spend any more time with the Dursleys than he absolutely had to, but that didn't stop him from accompanying his friends to the grounds, where they would be lead back to the train station.

"You haven't changed your mind, have you?" asked Daphne, obviously expecting the answer to be no.

His friends hadn't been that surprised when he told them, considering even the little Harry had shared about his domestic life back in Surrey, but it did make it seem a bit more real to them. It was pretty much then that what was left of the veneer of the Boy-Who-lived legend was washed away and all that was left was Harry Potter. Still, it didn't stop them from trying to convince him to do something else than staying at Hogwarts alone.

"I told you guys, I'd love to spend Christmas with you. Any of you," he said, including all members of his circle of friends. Ted seemed a bit uncomfortable – he had not joined his chorus of friends in offering Harry an invitation, but Harry understood. From what Harry had managed to glean, Ted's father was hardly much of an improvement on the Dursleys.

"But in order to go with you, I would have to get permission from my guardians." Harry went on. "You can guess on how forthcoming they would be with _that_ ," he concluded, shrugging.

"Well, I didn't actually expect you to change your mind now, given that you would've still had to pack and all," Daphne nodded, grinning. "But I wanted to give it one last shot."

There was a pause as they walked in silence, until Blaise finally spoke.

"I hear the Weasleys are staying here for Christmas, too. Try not to get caught in one of their so called 'pranks' again, won't you? You'll be all alone here, this time."

They had all heard about the Weasley twins' latest attack on Harry and Ted, of course. Harry was not deterred.

"Don't worry Blaise, I've something planned. If all goes well, they won't be so cocksure by the time you all get back," Harry finished with a feral grin.

"What are you thinking?" asked Ted, eyebrow raised.

"It's not very definite yet, but I'm getting there."

"Watch out, Harry, they're not … Nice People," Tracey finished lamely, but Harry thought he knew what she meant.

"Tracey, I've been dealing with Not Nice People all my life," he replied, flashing what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

They were just reaching the scheduled meeting place on the grounds, so Harry faced them all, wishing to forestall any more questions.

"Well guys, I hope you have a great Christmas," he started. "Write me."

He wasn't one for touchy-feely displays of affection, so he left it at that. He did mouth a silent "good luck" to Ted, but that was it. Waving goodbye, he walked back to the school.

* * *

In the ensuing days Harry had the castle practically to himself. That wasn't really true, for there were a good few students staying, but it seemed that way because of how much less they were compared to normal. This was especially true in his own house, where there were only three or four people left besides him—all older years whom he did not recognize. In any event, they all stayed out of each others' way.

Due to the much reduced number of students, the students no longer sat at meals divided by their house. Instead, the teachers and students all shared one round table. It was Christmas Eve, and the Great Hall was cheerfully decorated with Christmas trees and other such ornaments, and the mood seemed to be generally in keeping with the spirit of the season, but for Harry, feelings were rather more mixed. He had always spent his Christmases locked in his cupboard, while Dudley shared in the festive joy with his parents. He'd had to watch him gloat about the ever increasing number of presents he received, while Harry would count himself lucky to get a pair of "new" hand-me-down socks. Even in school, he never had anyone to share a Christmas related activity with, as the senior Dursleys were all about Dudley. You could say he had never _felt_ Christmas joy, at least since he was old enough to remember such things. He was in the wizard world _now_ , but nothing would give him back his stolen childhood, and it was in moments like this, when he felt so strangely detached from all the emotion around, that he was more painfully reminded of it.

On the other hand, he _was_ here now. He would only be stuck with the Dursleys for six more years, and only during the Summer vacation at that. He had friends for the first time in his life and was able to relish every new day instead of looking at it as just another round of torture to be endured. In the end, he decided, it was better to face the hopeful future than to dwell on the dark past. Resolving to do his best to achieve that, he turned to the girl on his left, who he now noticed was a fellow first year – in fact, she had been with him on the boat ride across the Hogwarts Lake. He remembered noticing how her hair almost shone with the moonlight, but the sky was clouded now, and the indoor lighting didn't provide for such a spectacular effect. Nevertheless, she was still very recognizable.

"Morag, right?" Harry asked her as she finished her main course. She seemed startled, but quickly got herself back together.

"Yeah. How did you know?" she replied coyly.

"I remembered you from the sorting, of course," he smiled, reassuring her. Some people didn't like talking to Slytherins, so while he found out if Morag was one of them, he had to tread lightly.

She nodded.

"Well, most people don't really remember things like that."

"I have a good memory," Harry shrugged. "I had to develop one, I guess."

Morag frowned but didn't pursue that possibly interesting tangent. That was just as well, because Harry wasn't willing to go any further down that road. Harry appreciated her for that.

They talked softly for the rest of the meal, neither mentioning why they were there instead of home. An unspoken solidarity bounded them to that. Regardless of how much he liked most of his housemates, he realized that only talking to people from his house for practically the whole period had kind of made him lose some perspective.

Just as the younger years were starting to head to their dorms, Harry turned to her.

"Merry Christmas, Morag", and strode down the hall as she called back, wishing the same to him. He turned and grinned at her before turning the corner and waltzing down to the dungeons. That had cheered him up.

* * *

As he woke the next day, he was startled to find a small pile of packages sitting at the foot of his bed. He _had_ used some of his newfound wealth to buy something for his friends – made possible by an owl order catalog he found out was available. A pair of dragonhide Quidditch gloves for Daphne ("to help you practice for next year"), a pair of glasses charmed to allow the wearer to see at night for Ted ("to help your odds of not getting caught"), a wizard history book for Blaise ("you said you found this period fascinating") and the tome _Non-Pureblood Slytherins_ for Tracey ("I told you you were not alone"). He also bought some symbolic knick-knacks for everyone else in his year, just as a token of good-faith and house spirit.

However, he hadn't been sure if he was really going to get anything. He'd certainly never broached the topic with anyone, and thought that perhaps they would've thought they didn't know him for long enough for him to be present-worthy; he was worried he might seem overeager by buying them presents himself when they had not.

Fortunately, that was not the case, as the pile showed quite neatly. He dug in and opened the first of several packages, which he found to be from Tracey. It contained a polished golden doorknob, which upon reading her letter he found to be an 'anti-Muggle doorknob', "to keep your relatives out of your room", she said. Harry chuckled – that could actually become very useful.

The next was a book from Blaise entitled _Magical Families of the West Country_. As instructed by Blaise's letter, Harry turned to page 110, to see a chapter entitled _The Potters_. He smiled, stowing the book away to read later. Next came a pair of sneakers enchanted to make the wearer run faster, from Daphne. She included a note not to let them get lost into the muggle world, or they could get in trouble.

Finally, Ted had sent him an old copy of the Daily Prophet. Harry thought this odd at first, but then he found it was dated from the days Voldemort was a large. There, next to an article detailing an attack by Voldemort's followers, who Harry learned were called Death Eaters, Harry found a picture of "James and Lily Potter, two of the first on the scene." Harry remembered how Hagrid told him his parents had fought Voldemort, but this made it all the more real to him. It was because of that man that Harry was, at eleven years old, only finding out what his parents even looked like, or hearing anything about what they had done in life. He knew that Voldemort had terrorized thousands, but somehow it seemed that this was the worst thing he had ever done, and Harry hated him for it, whatever had happened to him.

It was then that, since Voldemort had apparently been a Slytherin, he would have slept in this same dormitory in his own first year. Possibly even the same bed Harry had just laid in. The thought caused him to shudder in revulsion, and he carefully laid the newspaper on the bedside table, sparing one more glance at his parents' picture. He had a feeling he would spend many more hours looking at it, wondering what might have been. He made a mental note to find a way to thank Ted properly.

Finally, aside from a few other knick-knacks from a few of his other year mates who apparently had had the same idea, and a fifty pence coin from the Dursleys he angrily threw at the wall, there were two packages left. One, wrapped in thick brown paper, turned out to be from Hagrid, containing a thick wooden flute. Harry felt a twinge of guilt. He still had not visited the groundskeeper, or made any friendly overtures towards him. He would have to see to that.

Harry didn't know how to play flute, or anything else for that matter, but he gave it a little whistle upon which it produced a vaguely owlish sound.

The last one was very light, and as Harry opened it he was met by a silvery gray piece of cloth he realized to be a cloak. However, as he slid his hands under it to lie on his bed, feeling its watery touch, he found that he could see through them and the cloak itself. Startled, he dropped it to the floor, upon which it became visible again, but not without a note falling out of it first.

Harry picked the note up first, and saw these words written in an eccentric handwriting:

_Your_ _father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well._

_A Very Merry Christmas to you._

There was no signature, but judging by the handwriting he could guess who it had come from. Why would his parents have given such a useful thing to Dumbledore, though, especially given how useful it could have been hiding from Voldemort? He frowned. First, he wanted to confirm whether the cloak did what it seemed at first sight.

He carried it to the bathroom, where he stood in front of the mirror, facing his reflection, and threw the cloak over his torso. And sure enough, just as he did so, he saw part of his reflection disappear. He tried getting it to cover his head, and confirmed he could see through the fabric, from the inside. It was just like magic. He grinned and took the cloak off, hugging it to himself. He had gone so long without any memento of his parents, and now he had been showered with a photo, an heirloom and a family history. While they did make the loss seem even more gaping, they had also filled something he knew he needed. He even felt more charitable towards Dumbledore. He felt his eyes water, but fought it even though he knew there was no one around to see it. He learned long ago tears didn't help anyone.

* * *

He wanted to find out more about the cloak, but of course the library was closed for Christmas day, so he wouldn't be able to discover whether it had anything to say about it until the next day. So, he found the hours crawl by, even though he was filled with an unusually cheery mood, even going to the point of wishing Ron Weasley a Merry Christmas, even though the redhead just ignored him. Fortunately, no one else was around. He'd deny it if Wesley ever brought it up.

Finally, after an agitated night of unsettling dreams, where he always heard a woman scream and a flash of green light, right before waking up, he was up as soon as the Great Hall opened for breakfast. He was the only one present, which was fortunate because the way he practically vacuumed his food was really very unbecoming. But he couldn't help himself, and after a few minutes he was running towards the library.

He slowed down as he approached, for he knew if Madam Pince saw him running she would be highly displeased. As it was, he approached the surly librarian's desk slowly, mindful of her regard for rules.

"Good morning, Madam Pince."

She looked at him with a wary frown, but nodded in return. Harry figured that was all he was going to get, and he wasn't there to pay a social visit anyway.

"Could I have the index, please?" he asked. The index was exactly what it says on the tin. It contained an index list of all the books in the library, complete with cross-references.

Madam Pince's frown deepened at this point, but he was expecting that.

"And just what are you in such a rush to read you had to be here at first light?" she asked.

"Just some homework I realized will take a while to complete, Madam Pince," he said, trying to appear innocent.

He didn't know whether it worked, but she handed him the index without further comment. Harry took it and decided to start the search by looking for books on invisibility. He dismissed _The Invisible Book of Invisibility_ , as he doubted he could read anything on it, and settled on trying _Invisible, or Just Hard to See?_

He proceeded to find the book, which was no easy task, given how the library seemed to be structured. After a few minutes' search, however, he located the desired tome and sat down to examine it.

Just as Harry hoped, it contained an entire chapter on invisibility cloaks. Harry started to read, a task which was not helped by the book's fine print. The author went on describing a cloak's make and properties. Harry found himself nodding at the book, as he recognized all of the properties described in the cloak he had come to possess. All seemed to match, until he came upon this intriguing line:

" _Despite legends about a centuries old invisibility cloak which had been able to retain its invisibility in a perfect state, any invisibility cloak, no matter the type of make, start to 'fade' from invisibility into a kind of opacity ten to fifteen years from their inception."_

Harry frowned. Something didn't seem right. His father had been dead for ten years, and Harry imagined he hadn't bought the cloak right before dying, immediately entrusting it to Dumbledore.

How peculiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please review. Every review prods me to write more!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed. I read and appreciate all reviews.
> 
> The plot is actually beginning in this chapter, believe it or not! 
> 
> I'm still desperately looking for a beta. Answers on a postcard, please.

_But Mousie, thou are no thy-lane,  
In proving foresight may be vain:  
The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men,  
Gang aft agley,  
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,  
For promis'd joy!_

_Still, thou art blest, compar'd wi' me!  
The present only toucheth thee:  
But Och! I backward cast my e'e,  
On prospects drear!  
An' forward, tho' I canna see,  
I guess an' fear!_

_Robert Burns_

_Dartmoor, Devon_

It was Christmas Eve, and the sun was starting to set when he left the house, closing the door behind him with the utmost care, so that not a squeak was heard. Despite the creeping darkness, it was just edging on five o'clock. That was just as well, for it meant he was less likely to stumble upon any muggles. In truth, he wasn't really worried about that. The moors surrounding his house were white with snow, and even his heavy clothes, charmed as they were to protect against the cold, did not stop his progress from being painfully slow. The freezing wet wind blowing in from the Atlantic chilled him to the bone, and he could only imagine how someone who did not have the protections afforded him by magic would feel in this weather. No, he didn't think he would be meeting anyone tonight.

He knew, deep down, that the reason he had chosen the cover of darkness was not outwith the house, but within it. He shuddered as he turned the bend on the road from where his abode was no longer visible, but whether at the thought or the cold, he did not know. Tension drained away from him as he could no longer see the shapeless building in the distance, and he let the dusk envelop him as it turned to night. Not a sign of life was visible in the snow covered landscape, and he felt himself grow calmer and more confident. The hedgerows lining the road were overgrown, and gave his whole field of vision an eerie feel, making the night seem even darker and more constricting. This ancient night, for which he was named, enveloped him like a shroud. He felt it as he was transported away from the dreary present into a future which now no longer seemed as bleak as it once had.

A soft whooshing sound interrupted his thoughts, but he didn't have time to be startled, as the form of a small barn owl quickly flitted in his vision. He raised his left arm to provide a perch for it to land.

"Hello, Malcolm. You can always find me, can't you?" he murmured once the owl had landed, softly stroking its head. "I hope the weather at Hogwarts was not too bad for you."

The owl managed to look offended at this, as if the notion that any weather would have stopped him from delivering a letter to its recipient was too ridiculous and offensive to contemplate. Malcolm turned its face away in a huff, but still extended its leg, to which a small package was attached.

On noticing it, he untied the cord that fastened the package to Malcolm's leg as quickly as his gloved hands allowed him, and stowed it in haste in one of his jacket's many large pockets. After depositing the parcel safely, Theodore fed the owl a piece of dried meat from another pocket, and released the bird, lifting up his arm.

"Go to my room and rest, boy. You've earned it," he whispered to the owl, even though he knew there was no one around that could hear him. Old habits died hard.

As the owl flew away to a well deserved rest in its cage, the boy looked around, even though it was too dark now to be able to see much. He wanted to assure himself, as best as he could, that there was definitely no one about. Then he walked a few steps farther down the road, and turned right across a gap in the hedgerow that was concealed from all but the most attentive passer-by. He walked as one who knew where he was going, even though the darkness was growing and he could barely see ahead. He had trod this path many times before, even though it was a mere game track compared to the main road he had just left. Shadows grew ahead as he approached a clump of trees that stood out among the snow covered moor, and soon found himself in the shelter of their branches. In this place, the snow had not fallen as heavily as it had on the uncovered plain, and here and there the ground was visible. The smell of peat filled the air in this poorly ventilated shelter. Even if he lived to be as old as Dumbledore, this would be the smell he would always associate with safety and protection. He made his way deep within the grove, towards a place where the trees formed a protective enclosure. A well worn tree stump served him as a stool, and as he sat he leaned against the trunk of a beech tree which overlooked the remains of its fallen brother; taking a long, deep breath, he unpocketed the package.

" _Lumos_ ," he murmured, pointing his wand at the brown paper wrapped volume. He quickly ripped through the cover, revealing a small, rectangular box, on top of which lay an envelope. Setting the former aside, he opened the latter, and drew from it a letter, which he quickly set himself to reading by the faint wandlight.

_Dear Ted,_

_I hope you are having a good time at home, and are bearing up well. Malcolm delivered your letter safe and sound, you'll be pleased to hear. I'm looking forward to opening your gift tomorrow. I have no clue what it could be, as the house elves are apparently gathering any incoming gifts and making sure we only get them on Christmas morning, so thanks for mentioning you sent one, as at least I know I will be getting something! It's certainly more than I ever did before coming to Hogwarts!_

Theodore frowned. Harry did not often talk about his life before coming to Hogwarts, but Theodore had gathered enough to know it was very far from what he had ever imagined the Boy-Who-Lived's home life to be like. He supposed that was why they had got on so well. Though Theodore did not like to talk about it any more than Harry did, the latter had, with an almost frightening prescience, gathered that Theodore too relished the freedom from home life Hogwarts offered them in a way that was too much like Harry's own, not to have shared some of the same kind of experiences. Nevertheless, sometimes Theodore almost wished for the neglect Harry had gone through...

He shook his head. There was no need to dwell on unpleasant thoughts, least of all on Christmas Eve. He kept reading.

_Hogwarts is very different during the holidays. There are no Slytherins staying in our year, other than me, of course, so I have the dorms all to myself! We all eat at the same table in the Great Hall. It's very weird sitting next to people from other houses and years, not to mention the teachers! Unfortunately, the Weasley idiots are staying as well, so not all is bright, but we've managed not to cross paths so far._

_It's really good that Hogwarts stays open during these Holidays, so I don't have to see the Dursleys more than I strictly need to. I've been spending a lot of time in the library recently. It's really cosy when it's empty._

Harry continued for some paragraphs with a discussion of his doings at Hogwarts during the holidays, often remarking on how different it was then. Theodore wondered if he could get away with staying there for Easter. He quickly read through to Harry's parting lines

_Anyway, I've written for too long now. I hope you manage to get through the holidays well, and that my present is useful to you. I long to see you and the others in the New Year._

_Best,_

_Harry J. Potter_

Theodore smiled at the mention of the others. It was probably true that he was Harry's best friend, but the building of a small, relatively loose circle of friends around the shorter boy was something that felt so different from how Theodore had lived his life up to that point (and, he thought, how Harry had as well), that he did not know quite how to make of it. For one, it certainly helped with his father (and hadn't he been flabbergasted when he learned that the first year Slytherins were pretty much divided into 'Draco Malfoy's gang' and 'Harry Potter's gang'), as his friendship with Harry was thereby subject to less scrutiny than it would have been were they not part of that extended group. However, he did like the rag tag collection of characters that had gathered around Harry, and gave him a rather different picture of the kind of people who ended up in Slytherin than his father's school stories had done. He was now less conflicted about his place in Slytherin house.

Theodore pocketed the letter with a smile, together with the box—which he would open on the next day. Slowly getting up, he thought of the amount of time it had taken him to track down the copy of the Daily Prophet with the picture of Harry's parents in it. He didn't know what was worse, being like Harry and not remembering his parents at all, even what they looked like, or being like him and remembering his mother. While he at least had cherished memories, they made the pain of loss all the more searing. Still, pictures and other mementos made the loss a bit more bearable. The thought that the muggles, who were after all Harry's own flesh and blood, had never showed him a picture, or told him anything about his parents, filled Theodore with anger. However, he knew that could be unfair, and he could do nothing about Harry's degenerate relatives. But he did know now that the future need not be endless darkness. Walking softly, he made his away carefully through the dark back to the house, whistling a joyful Christmas tune.

* * *

_Near Holt, Norfolk_

The dawn poked holes through the cloud cover, announcing the arrival of Christmas day. Despite casting a heavy shadow upon the land, the clouds had issued no rain or snow for a while. Moisture was still abundant, for drops of dew peppered the green fields. All was quiet in the large L-shaped house dominating the countryside, and only the fluttering of a large barn owl broke the quietness of its surroundings. Owls would not normally be out and about at the break of dawn, especially near human habitation: they would be resting from a feast of small rodents somewhere safe. This was no regular owl, though, which could be clearly seen by the small packet tied to its legs.

Presently, the owl swooped down and landed on the sill belonging to one of the top floor windows, facing the rising sun. The bird knew it would have to wait a while, for it was not the time for Men to be awake yet. However, having been kept in the Owlery at Hogwarts for the past few months, it did not know his owner well enough. Even though its landing produced naught but the softest sound, a ruffle of feathers against glass and talons against stone, it was enough to wake the sleeping girl inside. Light green eyes flickered behind raised eyelids, and she was quickly up on her feet. Daphne Greengrass was a notoriously light sleeper.

Indeed, that had been the worst thing about Hogwarts, having to share a dorm with people who did not necessarily take into account that she was likely to wake up at the slightest noise. She had completely failed to anticipate this. Of course, she had magic at her disposal, and a few nights of poor sleep, followed by a letter home, had quickly led to her parents sending her a charmed pair of ear plugs. She'd enjoyed Hogwarts a lot more after that!

Being back in her own room, she had forsaken the ear plugs, which were after all a bit of a pain to insert. She had not counted on being awoken by the same bird who had been the bearer of that wonderful solution to her sleep problem. Still, she did not hold it against it. Quickly walking to the window, she briefly opened it just enough to let her owl in, rapidly closing it once it had safely flow to its perch, from where it was pointedly offering up the package that had been tied to its talons.

Daphne quickly undid the ties and freed the owl from its load, feeding it a treat at the same time.

"Thanks Bernie," she said, petting him on the head. "You must be so tired from flying all night. Why don't you go to sleep?"

As if it had been waiting for this cue, Bernie quickly leapt up into its open cage and ate some more of the food provided for him, before taking up a restful posture and preparing for a long-deserved sleep. As this was taking place, Daphne had released a small letter which accompanied the box, and tore the envelope open. She was not concerned about the lost sleep, for even if she was now eleven, she still allowed herself to feel eager for Christmas morning. And as she sat down at the foot of her bed to read the accompanying letter, she quickly realised this was the first present she was going to open, from a person she could safely say was the classmate she had least expected to have this year.

_Dear Daphne,_

_I hope you are enjoying yourself at home. Hogwarts is quite different during holidays._

Daphne found Harry's descriptions of Hogwarts outwith term time to be quite interesting. It had to be quite a pain being the only Slytherin staying and have to eat with all the other students, especially since it seemed most of them were Gryffindors, who couldn't be expected to be friendly. Harry seemed to be coping alright with it, and Daphne keep reading until Harry finally reached the topic of the box which lay in front of her.

_I know how keen you are to join the quidditch team next year, so I bought you these, which should help you practice (and play!) in all kinds of weather._

This excited Daphne quite a bit, but she read through to the closing lines before putting the parchment aside and opening the box. Upon doing so, she was greeted with a pair of gloves that to the untrained eye looked to be made from leather. Daphne knew better, though, as they were clearly made from dragonhide, an extremely resistant material that made for very durable clothing—and much more expensive. Perfect for all-weather play indeed. She tried them on in front of a mirror, and although she was hardly wearing her flying gear at the time, she liked how they fit, felt and looked. Her fondness for quidditch did not _completely_ overcome her fashion sense, after all, even though she never went to what she felt were the extremes her mother would have liked her to go to. Astoria was so much better at that.

Sighting, she put the gloves back into their box, and stashed it, together with the letter, away from view. No need to have her family ask embarrassing questions about her friendship with the Boy-Who-Lived, after all. Her mother would probably tell her she was being much too free with her friendships, but Daphne had no plans to be the Slytherin Ice Queen her mother wanted her to be. And really, Harry was so completely different than anything she had ever expected, it was hard to even know where to begin telling them about him. It was so hard to get him to relax, but he seemed to be genuinely happy in those few moments. Shaking her head in wonder, Daphne went off to start her morning ablutions, but not before making a mental note to thank Harry when she got back to school.

* * *

Harry didn't know what to think. Of course, he didn't know his own cloak's full history, and it was possible that it was still within its expected lifetime of invisibility. However, something inside him told him that was not the case. For one thing, he didn't think Dumbledore—for he was sure Dumbledore was the one who had given him the cloak back—would choose this way of returning it if it was something completely devoid of any personal meaning for Harry. And a very recently purchased cloak, even if it had been his father's, was not the kind of stuff that was worth that sort of mystery, as Harry was sure his father must have had other family heirlooms. Even the Dursleys had them.

Yet, even if he was finally starting to internalize his status as a wizard, Harry wasn't quite ready to think that his family would just happen to be in possession of what was literally the stuff of legend. He frowned, deep in thought. He _was_ going to have to research this further, he knew. His mind would not let go of this opportunity to find out more about his origins, to anchor himself further into this world which he already loved so much. He pulled out his notebook and began making a list.

_Things to research on_ _the_ _my invisibility cloak:_

_What_ are _these legends about an everlasting invisibility cloak? Research wizard legends_

_Is there more detailed stuff about invisibility cloaks? Keep researching library_

He stroked his chin with his quill. This angle was about done, he thought, at least until he had follow-up data that might give him clues for future research. But, he realized suddenly, there was another angle he had overlooked, one which would be rather pleasing personally.

_If the cloak really is 'legendary', how could my family have gotten their hands on it? Research our family history! Start with Blaise's book_

_Talk to people who might have known my father, to try to find out how old the cloak really is_

He rested his quill, satisfied. That seemed like a plan that would keep him busy for a while, so he thought he would start right there and then. He flipped to the book's index, looking for some cross references on wizard legends and invisibility cloaks. It was not formatted in the most useful way, but he managed to find two volumes he could use for the first two items of his to-do list: _Leggerworth's Litany of Legendary Legends_ , by Leonard Leggerworth and _A Demiguise's Legacy: A Guide to the Crafting of Invisibility Cloaks_ , by Willem Kuyper. A quick perusal of the library index told him that the latter book was not available for consultation, so he quickly scribbled down a note to see about ordering it. Happily, however, the former was, and a few minutes later a smiling Harry could be seen leaving the library with it safely tucked away on his rucksack. After a trek to the dungeons, the tome lay next to Blaise's present, ready to be thoroughly researched. But first, he would have to visit Hagrid.

* * *

A few hours later, after a comforting lunch, Harry was strolling through the grounds towards Hagrid's hut. He walked at a leisurely pace, and he knew that was at least partly because he still was not sure how to handle the groundskeeper. Fortunately, he had bought one too many knick knack items in his Christmas shopping, so he was able to spare a small box of sweet drops for Hagrid. Harry had intended it to be a present for one of the prefects, but he couldn't decide which one, and was afraid it'd make him seem like he was trying to suck up to authority. He knew it wasn't that much, but he honestly hadn't thought the groundskeeper would be buying _him_ a present either, so it would have to do.

After walking for a couple of minutes, Harry finally reached Hagrid's thatched hut, and carefully knocked. Almost instantly, he heard noise inside, and after a short delay, the door opened with a squeak, and the groundskeeper was before him. Hagrid still seemed as tall as he had that night on the rock, when he'd given Harry the best birthday present of his life by telling him about the wonderful world of wizards, and saving him from the torment that had been his daily life. That recollection steeled his resolve. Regardless of what Hagrid may have said or thought about Slytherins, Harry's gratitude for what he had done would not let him put this off any longer.

"Hello Hagrid," he said sheepishly, still unsure about how he would be received. "I hope you had a Merry Christmas. I came to thank you for your present."

Hagrid seemed vaguely surprised at seeing him there, probably because Harry had ignored him until then, but his scraggly faced was almost instantly graced with a smile.

"'Appy Chris'mas, 'Arry! I'd b'gan t'think you'd fergotten 'bout me." Harry had to suppress a slight recoil at the implied reproach, but Hagrid went on. "Well, what'r y'waitin' fer? Come in! I've got some tea and cakes jus' abou' ready."

Harry nodded, smiling with relief at Hagrid's joviality. It seemed that things would not go so bad after all. He was ushered inside and bidden to sit at a large wooden table.

"Make yerself at home, 'Arry," said Hagrid as he busied himself with a kettle.

Harry nodded and sat in a rickety three-legged wooden stool, which he had a bit of trouble believing could hold Hagrid's huge frame. Then again, maybe it was there for visitors like himself.

After a short while, the kettle was whirring loudly, and Hagrid hurriedly poured its contents into two cups. Making his way to the table, he placed one in front of Harry at one end of the table, and took a seat in front of the other, right across. Harry tried to take a quick sip, but finding it too hot, decided to wait for it to cool down a bit. He might as well grab the bull by the horns and start tackling the elephant in the room.

"Hagrid, I've been meaning to come visit you for some time. I really am sorry for not coming earlier, but..."

Harry paused, unsure about what was the most tactful way to put it.

"I... Well, I got sorted into Slytherin, you know..." Harry trailed, nervously fingering his green and grey scarf.

Harry didn't see so much as feel Hagrid tensing at those words. He felt himself suppressing his own tension. Hagrid had been his first friend in the wizard world, but if he was going to abandon him just because of his House, he really was not worthy to have as a friend in the first place. But to find out his reaction, Harry had to carry on.

"You just didn't seem to be our number one fan back when you were telling me about Hogwarts." Harry paused, noticing how the tension drained from Hagrid, to be replaced by what vaguely looked like shame. "I guess I was just afraid of how you would react, that you'd think I was really a bad person all along..." Harry trailed, quickly sipping his tea, which had reached a pleasant enough temperature.

Hagrid seemed to be reaching for words there for a while, but eventually sputtered on.

"Tis true, I don' much like Slytherins. But blimey, 'Arry, I held yeh when yeh was jus' a wee babe. No son o'James an' Lily could ever be bad." He gave a dry chuckle. "I didn' invite yeh over fer tea b'cause I though' tha' bein' in Slytherin would turn yeh agains' me. A righ' pair we make."

Harry nodded, visibly relieved.

"I'd be lying if I said you were the most popular person there. But I'm never going to forget that you were the one to tell me about magic." He paused. "I know what not being popular is like, so I'm not going to let other people's opinions influence me on this, even if they're my friends." Harry finished bitterly, remembering how he spent most of his childhood ostracised because of Dudley, as he reached for his bag and handed a small wrapped box to Hagrid.

"Here, I got you this," he said, handing it to him.

Hagrid reached across the table and took the packet from Harry, quickly unwrapping it. Upon finding the pack of sweets within, Harry could see the big man's eyes starting to water.

"Blimey, 'Arry, 'm sorry I didn' invite yeh over earlier," Hagrid said, his voice strangled from holding back a sob. "Slytherin'r not, yer a great wizard, jus' like yer parents."

Harry blinked at this seemingly unexpected reaction, vowing to get Hagrid something more personal next time.

This was also the second time Hagrid had mentioned Harry's parents. For a moment, he couldn't help but feel the indelible sadness he experienced every time he thought of how they had been robbed from him. He knew that perhaps it was the idea of having parents he missed more than his parents themselves, as he had not been old enough to remember them, but to him, it didn't matter. He still yearned daily for the family he would never know.

Hagrid, however, seemed to have known his parents. There was the chance to find out something more about them, and Harry was not going to let it go to waste.

"Hagrid, did... did you know my parents, then?" Harry asked, his voice trembling slightly as he approached the subject.

Hagrid's face saddened in understanding, though Harry could tell that the groundskeeper was thankful that both of them were willing to put the past three months behind them.

"Aye, 'Arry, I did. Bes' wizard and witch I ever met. Knew 'em through all their school years! Spent half o'them chasin' yer dad away from the fores', mind you!"

At Harry's raised eyebrow, Hagrid went on a tale of his dad's erstwhile adventures in the Forbidden Forest, when the latter was in his late school years. Harry listened intently as this tale seamlessly segued into another, and again, for what seemed like hours on end. Indeed, it was only as the light dimmed and the shadows lengthened inside the small cabin that Harry realized he should be heading inside for dinner. Fortunately, Hagrid seemed at the end of an individual story, so Harry could leave without cutting anything short.

"...an' Filch never could figure ou' where 'e went. T'was on'y later tha' I learned yer dad'd owned an invisibility cloak fer all 'is years at 'Ogwarts! No wonder 'e always seemed ter slip away at th'last mo'!" Hagrid finished with a chuckle, and then stopped with a sigh, seeming himself to notice the darkness.

Harry's ears were instantly prickled at this news. It was definitely true. His father _had_ owned the invisibility cloak in his school years. Hagrid interrupted Harry's thoughts on this.

"Blimey, 'Arry, it's gettin' late. Yeh should be headin' inside fer dinner, but r'member, yer welcome 'ere any time yeh wan'!"

"Thank you, Hagrid," Harry replied. "I'll be back!" Harry would, too. He had spent a very pleasant afternoon, and he was desperate for anything he could learn about his parents and his origins.

"Thanks for the tea," he finished, before he ran off to the castle. It had gotten cold, and he was hungrier than he realized. From amongst the general fascination with his parents' histories, of which he vowed to learn as much as he possibly could, the detail about the cloak jumped at him. He needed to keep digging for the truth. He was more determined than ever!

* * *

Harry sat by the fire in the Slytherin common room. It was a dark night outside, though it was just after dinner. He had never realized just how far north Scotland really was. The night's darkness was compounded by the heavy gray clouds pouring snow into the grounds, and Harry felt much freer now that he had been in the almost empty Great Hall, where the sky's darkness bore down on him from the enchanted ceiling; yet he knew he was in a dungeon, and had nothing but rock above and beside him. Truly the mind worked in mysterious ways.

Harry had all but forgotten that, however. In fact, even if the weather outside had been unseasonably sunny and pleasant, he would have still spent as little time possible with dinner, for he was anxious to get back to the book he was reading by the cosy fireplace's warm glow. That was not surprising, for the volume Harry was so intently poring over was the Christmas gift he had got from Blaise, _Magical Families of the South West_ ; he was, of course, reading about the Potters.

His reading was bittersweet. He was fascinated by the history of his father's family, history he hadn't dreamt of for the first eleven years of his life, and yet reading it cast dark clouds over his soul, for he knew all he had—would ever have—was history. Thanks to Voldemort, he never had his own father to tell him these tales growing up, as he was sure James Potter would have. Instead, he grew up hearing lies about how his dad was a drunk who had got himself and his mother killed in a car crash.

He shook his head, trying to clear the sadness and anger from his mind. There was no sense in dwelling on it, and he felt like he was on the verge of grasping something especially important. There weren't very many magical families in the United Kingdom, much less in the South West, which didn't have that many people to begin with, if he remembered his primary school geography lessons correctly. This allowed the author to go into much detail about every family in the area. Harry had even noticed the Dumbledores in the table of contents, and made a small note to read up on them later. Harry was very interested in the web of family connections, whence he learned that he was actually related to some families whose names he recognized from school. Others were indicated as extinct lines with some remaining lateral branches, presumably descended from females who lost the family name when they took up their husbands'. It didn't seem as if he was related to any of his Slytherin year mates, at least not obviously—he really hadn't thought to enquire of their mothers' maiden names, after all. He seemed, however, to be connected to one lost line of moderate importance, the Peverells.

Harry's eyebrow shot up when he read this. He remembered reading about that family very recently, but the exact circumstances escaped him at that moment. He tried to keep reading, but the thought was driving him mad. Even as he was reluctant to leave the protecting warmth of the fire, he knew he wouldn't be able to focus if he didn't work this out. He got up and quickly jogged to his room, where he picked up his private notebook and the books he had recently got from the library.

He started with his notebook, querying it for the name that was rattling in his brain. He flipped through the pages, increasingly frustrated at not being able to find it. Just as he was about ready to throw the notebook away in disgust, the corner of his eye caught something that made him shout in triumph, holding the pad aloft, before realizing he was fortunate to be the only person in the common room, otherwise people would surely inquire what he was so excited about.

He settled down, instinctively bringing all his gear close to himself, even though there was no one there to be overly curious. Old habits died hard, he guessed, and the one time he was so overly excited that he didn't care that it was noticed by other people, it resulted in the Dursleys putting endless obstacles to his Hogwarts letter. He had vowed not to be so careless again in the future.

He picked up _Leggerworth's Litany of Legendary Legends_ , recently obtained from the library, and set it next to his notebook. After quickly turning the book's pages to find the table of contents, his finger excitedly ran along its lines, searching for the chapter his notebook referenced. Among the many legends referenced in _Leggerworth's Litany_ was "The Tale of the Three Brothers", part of a collection of stories entitled _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_. Harry sighed at the thought that all these stories would have probably been told to him as bedtime stories by his parents, had they not been taken away from him, but he shook his head and carried on; not having his newfound friends around was making him glum and despondent, and the season didn't help either.

His finger quickly found what he was looking for, and noting the page number, Harry quickly flipped through the book. He stopped not at the Three Brothers' tale itself, which he remembered, but leafed through it to the next chapter, an accompanying analysis of the legend, which Leggerwoth's book contained for each tale it included. Harry had not even realized that when he chose the book, but that feature was proving invaluable now. He had noted this story as it mentioned an invisibility cloak, and if he remembered correctly, the scholarly analysis said something about the Peverells.

He had found the tale itself fascinating for more than one reason. He enjoyed the ingenuity of the three brothers who had bargained with Death, one to get an unbeatable wand, another to get a stone that enabled him to summon the spirits of the dead, and the final and youngest of the three to get an invisibility cloak that enabled him to hide from Death itself. He fingered his own invisibility cloak as he considered this, wondering if it might be the same cloak mentioned in the legend. Would he really be able to hide from death?

But even though the legend itself didn't commend the second brother for seeking to bring his lover back from the afterlife, Harry thought that surely that was the most interesting of the three brothers' artefacts. Maybe it was just the fact that it was the one that spoke most to his needs. The invisibility cloak was useful, but Ted was living proof that you did not need one to get around Hogwarts. The wand seemed amazing, but of course it would be wasted on Harry at present, as his knowledge was so limited. But the stone...

Harry thought of his parents' picture on Ted's old _Daily Prophet_. He couldn't tell how long he stayed like that, staring into the distance and thinking of what could have been, and what could be. It was even possible he drifted off for a while. When a crackle in the fireplace awoke him, it was one in the morning and the fire was almost burned out. He shook himself. It was really too late to do any more reading, but he wanted to find out if he had dreamt the Peverell connection. He tried skimming the analysis, knowing he would never be able to read through the whole thing at that time. His efforts were rewarded about halfway through, in the midst of a discussion about a possible real life basis to the legend:

_While most agree that the Deathly Hallows are mere legends, some maintain that the objects mentioned in this story actually exist, even though track of them has been lost. An association has especially been made between the elder wand and a historically attested wand known as the Deathstick, which is first known from the life of Antioch Peverell. This wand is known for leaving a trail of death in its wake, as wizards were willing to fight to the death in order to possess it. This association, combined with the fact that Antioch Peverell was the eldest of three brothers, has lead some to conclude that the Peverell brothers were actually the three brothers in the story, which would then be based in reality. However, there is nothing to support this association, as the Deathstick does not appear, in any records, to be connected with any other artefacts, much less ones possessed by the remainder of the Peverell family._

And Harry stopped reading there, for that was enough for him to know with almost complete certainty that he was _not_ on a wild goose chase. Despite Leggerworth's claim that the other two artefacts were not known, did not Harry have the youngest brother's cloak right in his hands? He would finish reading the analysis the next day, with much more care, but it was definitely too late to do any more reading. Harry went to bed thinking of the resurrection stone, and that night, he dreamt of the three brothers, and of the family whose likeness he now knew, though they were gone behind the veil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, reviews are the fuel that keeps me going.


	6. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot continues to develop in this chapter, though I'm sure some people will still think I'm going too slow. All I can say is that this is definitely a character driven story, and the characters need time to develop properly!
> 
> Once again, thank you to everyone who reviewed. You really help motivate me.

_My grandfather cut more turf in a day  
Than any other man on Toner's bog.  
Once I carried him milk in a bottle  
Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up  
To drink it, then fell to right away_

_Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods  
Over his shoulder, going down and down  
For the good turf. Digging._

_The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap  
Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge  
Through living roots awaken in my head.  
But I've no spade to follow men like them._

_Between my finger and my thumb  
The squat pen rests.  
I'll dig with it._

_Seamus Heaney_

In the few days between Christmas and the beginning of the new term, outwith the times of personal research, Harry found himself spending a lot of time with Morag MacDougal, the girl he had talked to on Christmas Eve. He found himself sitting next to her at dinner time a couple of days later, and they compared their Christmas presents. That was a conversation topic Harry had never engaged in before, seeing as he had never got any presents worth the name for as long as he could remember. He was so entranced by the conversation that he even brought up the Dursleys' 'present'.

"And of course, can't forget my Aunt and Uncle's 'present'," he spat bitterly, punctuated by the small clatter of the cutlery he had dropped to make air quotes for the last word. "A fifty pence coin. It even beats the worn out socks they gave me last year." He wasn't sure why he found himself divulging this sort of details, but he figured that most people who were staying at Hogwarts were doing so out of necessity, so he figured there was a chance the auburn haired girl would understand where he was coming from. She certainly had not mentioned any gifts from her parents either.

"Are your Aunt and Uncle the people you grew up with?" She asked. Harry wasn't sure how much he wanted to share about his home life, so he just nodded. He probably let some of his reluctance show on his face, because she let it drop and changed the subject to talk about the upcoming New Year, when curfew would be lengthened to a bit after midnight to allow students and staff staying over to celebrate in the great hall.

They kept talking throughout the meal and found themselves walking together through the mostly empty school in the hours before curfew. Harry still did not feel as much at liberty to violate it as his more cavalier friend Ted, but during the holidays curfew enforcement was lax, so he wasn't too worried about getting lost and missing it. At any rate, they still had a few hours to spare, and were just walking in silence through a dimly lit corridor. Cold air blew in occasionally through draughty windows, and the moon's pale light was reflected by the snow outside, lending an eerie glow to their surroundings. The silence was friendly rather than awkward, but Morag seemed to be pondering something. Harry left her to it, knowing there was no point in pressuring her to say whatever she was mulling over before she was ready. Instead, he stopped them to gaze out the window at the magnificent nocturnal landscape below.

"You probably can't remember your parents, can you Harry? I'm probably being rude asking this, but... My parents are dead too, even though I can remember them." Morag had Harry's full attention. He wasn't really offended by her question, as he was pretty sure there was more of a point to it than mere morbid curiosity. His conjecture had been confirmed, as had his feeling that she had some experience of her own with family issues. He smiled sadly at Morag as she went on in the soft, lilting Scottish accent that marked her as a highlander.

"They died when I was six, in a magic accident. I remember Christmas at home when they were still alive, how I got up early on Christmas day and we would all open our presents." She paused, and Harry could see tears welling up in her eyes, and he momentarily felt like a deer caught in headlights. He had no experience of crying girls and had no idea what to do. However, he steeled himself, trying to keep any panic from showing on his face, and patted her arm in what he hoped was a gentle and comforting way.

This seemed to work, because Morag seemed to be able to hold back the tears and shot him a sad smile. "I always feel terrible around this time of year. I thought staying at Hogwarts instead of going back home to my Aunt would help, but I'm not sure it was much of an improvement. I really enjoyed talking to you on Christmas Eve, though. You made me forget about feeling sorry for myself for a wee while."

Harry could tell she was still feeling sad, but now he knew why she had brought up the whole issue. Harry had also been feeling somewhat sorry for himself recently, and so in a way, it was actually comforting for him to know that he had helped someone, even for just a small amount of time.

"I'm not sure if not remembering is better than remembering. It's actually something I've been thinking about recently. I really did enjoyed talking to you as well, though." Harry smiled at Morag, intent on keeping her from crying. "We should get together during this term too, maybe work on homework together. I could use some of that Ravenclaw cleverness."

Morag seemed happy at that thought, for her eyes brightened and the incipient tears seemed to disappear from her eyes. "I'd like that, although _we_ 've heard of how good you are at Transfiguration." Harry tried not to show how stupidly embarrassed he felt about actually being good at something. He knew that was a ridiculous thing to feel, but he had never exactly been encouraged to excel at _chez_ Dursley.

"I could certainly use some help with that subject; although I'm much better at Charms," Morag went on.

"That sounds like a great trade," Harry said, and by unspoken agreement, they headed away from the window and further down the corridor, making light conversation and not thinking too much of the impromptu heart to heart they had just shared.

They were about to part ways to go to their respective common rooms when they heard a noise like someone banging on wood. Wondering what was happening, they halted and drew their wands, even though Harry knew they would not be able to do much if they actually were in serious danger. That said, he hoped that was not the case, and they were supposed to be safe inside Hogwarts, although given that Dumbledore thought it was a good idea to keep a three-headed dog inside the school, that assurance might not be worth much.

They walked further down the way Morag would have taken to get to Ravenclaw tower, and as they did so, the noise became more distinct. Still with wands at the ready, and casting nervous glances all around, they followed the noise until they reached its apparent source just outside a broom cupboard; it was clear someone was trapped inside, and desperately trying to clobber his way out. Harry glanced at Morag with a blush, wondering for a second if they had simply stumbled upon two older students having a night time rendezvous. Harry considered the possibility, but quickly dismissed it. Harry had never snogged anyone, but he doubted it would have made that much noise. Whoever was making these sounds seemed quite clearly to be in distress.

"Stand back Morag," Harry whispered, before taking a step back himself and, raising his wand, which he pointed at the cupboard. " _Alohomora_ ," he whispered. Barely a second after the spell connected with the click of a lock coming undone, the cupboard door fell backwards as what seemed like a large body fell out of it.

Morag let out a little cry of surprise, but had enough presence of mind to raise her own wand. " _Lumos_ ," she cast, and by the wand light the two first years could clearly see they had just freed another student from the cupboard. The erstwhile prisoner was obviously an older student, and the badge on his robes indicated his status as a prefect. He was also wearing the blue and bronze colours of Ravenclaw house, and Harry realized that Morag must know who he was.

"'Eck!" she shouted, confirming Harry's conjecture. "What happened to you?" The older boy's mouth had been gagged, and ropes were tied around him in such a way that he would have been unable to move except by swaying. Harry quickly put his wand to the gag and hoped that despite his relative lack of practice, he would be able to cast the spell correctly.

" _Diffindo_ ," he cast, and it seemed to have worked, as the rag split neatly in two and fell around the prefect's face. The older boy quickly spat it out, before taking a large intake of air.

"Morag!" he spoke loudly in an accent remarkably similar to Morag's own. "Thank goodness you found me!" Turning his head to face Harry, he was momentarily struck dumb by the latter's presence, but recovered quickly. "Please untie my hands. My wand's in my left pocket. I should be able to release myself after that."

Harry nodded and cast the Cutting Curse on the ropes holding 'Eck's hands, while Morag collected the older boy's wand and handed it to him. Once in possession of his wand, and the ability to use it, the prefect was quick to cast the same spell to rid himself of all the other ropes. Once the last piece of rope had fallen to the floor, he let himself fall as well and started rubbing his muscles, which Harry realized were surely sore from the rope's pressure.

"Are you alright, 'Eck? Who did this to you?" Morag asked, concern clearly showing on her face. Harry had a sneaking suspicion of exactly who had done it, but he waited to hear the boy's story.

"Do you really need to ask? I could barely tell it was them, they caught me by surprise, but it was the Weasley twins alright." The Ravenclaw prefect shook himself and finally rose up, before extending his hand to Harry.

"I really have to thank you, Potter." He said, as Harry shook his hand. "I'm Alex Campbell. I knew Morag, obviously, though I didn't know you two are friends."

"We just started talking this week, seeing as we were both staying over." Morag interjected.

Alex nodded as Harry interrupted. "Are you going to do anything about this?" he asked. He would have liked the Weasley twins to get their comeuppance, but doubted Campbell would be able to actually do anything. His suspicions were confirmed as the older boy shrugged.

"What can I do? I barely saw it was them, and I certainly don't have any proof of it. I'll just have to be more alert in the future. I don't think I did Ravenclaw House proud tonight," he added dejectedly, before shrugging and changing the subject. "Did you really tell Linton Heathcliff to lock the Slytherin first years in a toilet when the troll got in? The Slytherin prefects didn't really want to talk about it."

Harry blinked, slightly perplexed by the rumour. As he explained the events of Halloween to the Ravenclaw prefect, another wheel fell into place in his plan to get back at the Weasley twins. He just hoped the older boy would not be averse to a slight bit of rule breaking. After a short talk with the two Ravenclaws, they parted amiably.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention tonight's incident to anyone Potter. But if you ever need anything I can get you as a Prefect, just let me know, and I'll do all I can."

After a quick handshake, Harry left for the dungeons, feeling quite pleased with himself.

* * *

Before Harry knew, it was the end of Christmas holidays, and his friends were back at Hogwarts. While he had appreciated having the entire dorm to himself, he had missed the company of his friends. Besides, some things could not be discussed via owl post. After greetings and thank yous for the Christmas presents that had been exchanged, they enjoyed a nice return feast, the Great Hall now returned to its usual configuration, with the houses once more separate. Snow fell lightly from the dark sky, and even though Harry still half expected it to fall on him, it of course never did. They retired back to their dorms in great comfort and warmth. The students who had not stayed looked generally quite tired from the trip up, and the trek back to the dungeons was a quiet one. Despite that, classes were starting the next day, and Harry wanted to talk to Ted before that, so without a word, he gestured towards a disused classroom on the way. It was not actually curfew yet, but Harry did not want anyone snooping around. He wasn't even sure if he trusted Ted enough to tell him what he was about to, but eventually, he had to take a leap of faith, as despite being friendless all his life, he felt somehow that that was not how things were meant to be, and that confiding in someone would help him on his self appointed tasks. Two heads were better than one, after all.

Ted seemed to have no problems interpreting Harry's meaning, and the two boys silently hung back until the rest of their group rounded a corner before doubling back towards the room they had passed. Guessing something secret was about to be revealed, Ted anticipated Harry's own plans by putting a locking charm on the door and heading towards the corder of the room farthest from the door.

"Thanks," Harry said, before taking a seat on one of the many chairs cluttering the place. Ted grabbed a chair and turned it around so that he could sit on it with his arms resting on the back of the chair. Once he had his friend's full attention, Harry went right to the point, producing his new cloak from under his robes.

"Do you know what this is, Ted?" Harry asked in a low tone of voice, not wanting anyone to hear any part of their conversation even by accident. As he spoke, he held the cloak in such a way that it covered his hands, turning them invisible.

Ted clearly knew what it was, for his eyes widened and his face clearly showed recognition, followed by curiosity. "An invisibility cloak..." he trailed off, matching Harry's quiet tone. Realizing that Harry had more to say, Ted looked at him expectantly.

"Yep. This came with the rest of my Christmas presents, with only this note," Harry explained, handing both the note and the cloak to Ted. Harry's friend could not resist turning himself partially invisible, which Harry was fully expecting, as he had had the same urge to test the cloak when he realized what it was. Eventually, though, Ted stopped and read the note, throwing Harry a quizzical look as he finished.

"Dumbledore?" He asked, though that was clearly the first of many questions Harry could tell his friend had.

"I think so," Harry said. "No idea why he would have something of my father's, though he did give it back. Anyway, that's not the point. I did some digging, and it turns out this cloak was already old by the time my father was at Hogwarts."

Ted frowned. "I don't think invisibility cloaks are meant to last that long," he said, to which Harry nodded eagerly. He was glad he wouldn't have to go over that explanation. "That's right, they're not. But... Have you ever heard of _The Tale of the Three Brothers_?"

Ted nodded, but his brow was contorted in a frown. "Yes, most wizard children have. But you can't mean..." he trailed off again.

Harry knew the suggestion would seem preposterous, as it had to him before he'd had the chance to get the facts and think about it. "I know it sounds really stupid at first, but hear me out. I did a bit of digging," Harry started, pulling out _Leggerworth's Littany_ from an inside pocket of his robes. Opening on the relevant pages, he went on, "It turns out, some people think the three brothers in the story were the Peverell brothers. Here, read it." Harry punctuated these last words by thrusting the book at his friend and pointing to the passage he wanted him to read.

Ted still seemed skeptical, but was clearly a bit more open to the possibility as he took hold of the book and turned his hazel eyes to the page. After a few seconds, he lifted his head and looked at Harry again. "That might mean there's some truth to the wand part, but it doesn't say anything about an invisibility cloak." Harry kept smiling at Ted as he said this, which made him realize there had to be more behind Harry's enthusiasm. "Is there something you haven't told me yet, Harry?"

"Yes, yes there is! Blaise gave me a book on wizard genealogies for Christmas, and naturally I looked up my family on it. I'll show it to you later if you want, but it turns out, the Potters are descended from Ignotus Peverell, who was Antioch Peverell's youngest brother. And in the story, the youngest brother is the one who got the invisibility cloak!"

Ted's eyes widened at this revelation. He seemed to be processing this new information, and Harry willingly gave him time to do so. He finally seemed to reach some sort of conclusion, for he looked straight at Harry with a puzzled look on his face. "I'm not saying you're right, but... knowing that, I'm not that sure you're wrong either." After a pause that felt pregnant with anticipation, he exclaimed, "Bloody hell, Harry. Do you think you could really hide from Death in this? And that the other items are real too?"

Harry could tell his friend was coming around to his conclusions, though he was not fully convinced. In truth, Harry himself was not fully convinced either, so his friend's skepticism didn't really bother him. "I'm not sure that this _is_ the Cloak either, Ted. But it's not a bad starting point, and I can't think of any better explanation for why it has lasted so long, or why the details match so well with the story."

Ted nodded. "Who wrote the book Blaise gave you? Lots of families have made up connections to important historical people they're not actually related to."

Harry had indeed wondered just how reliable the information in that book was. "Actually, it was the same person who wrote our history textbook, Bathilda Bagshot."

"I'm sure it must have been a thrilling read, then," Ted laughed. "Still, she is quite reliable." He paused at this, seemingly unsure of how to put a thought into words. "My grandfather wrote a book on wizard genealogies. I can look up what it says when I go home on Easter. Not that it's infallible or anything, but if they both say the same thing, it's a point in your favour."

Harry nodded. "Couldn't we just use the library to find out?"

Ted blushed at this and averted Harry's gaze. "I don't think you'll find that book in the Hogwarts library, Harry."

Harry raised his eyebrows and filed this information for future reference. Clearly there was something his friend was not telling him, but he would not push him about it at that time. Still, he would like to get the truth of the matter some time soon.

"Anyway, if this is true," Ted went on, trying to hide his embarrassment by focusing on the problem at hand, "then we should look up if there are any other descendants of the Peverells. Well, probably just the middle brother's, as if the story is true, Antioch was killed almost right away. Do you know what the middle one's name was?"

"Cadmus," Harry replied, choosing to play along with his friend's change of subject. "I don't know anything else about him, though, other than that he would have been the one to have the Stone. I didn't have time to do any more research on this because I had to finish my homework," he finished sheepishly.

"Well, we'll find some time during term. I really think you may be on to something Harry."

"Thanks Ted," Harry said gratefully. "Just, don't mention this to anyone else just yet. I don't want anyone to get too interested in this."

Ted nodded. "I wasn't going to, don't worry. We should probably get to the common room, though, before people wonder where we've gone to." He finished with a yawn.

"Not going to be breaking curfew tonight, are you Ted?" Harry laughed, raising his voice above the quiet tones in which their conversation had been conducted. He then cancelled the spell on the door and headed out, followed by his friend. They walked back to the dungeons avoiding any mention of the subject they had just been discussing, talking about their holidays instead. At the back of his mind, though, Harry still remembered Ted's embarrassment when he had mentioned his grandfathers book, and that gave him something else to worry about.

* * *

There was no soft transition from idleness to work this time, as classes started again in earnest from the very first week of term. Before he knew it, Harry found himself in Transfiguration class again, a caged beetle on his desk. Professor McGonagall wasted no time after her arrival, which was as punctual as ever; she started lecturing in a stern voice almost as soon as she entered the classroom.

"Starting today, we will be working on animal transfiguration. In the first year, we will be covering animal-to-object transfigurations only. If you show me you're competent at this by passing your final exam, you can expect to progress to more complicated animal-to-animal transfiguration in your second year."

As ever, Harry had his eyes, ears, and mind fixed on the Professor. He was still not fully sure how he felt about the Transfiguration teacher, but despite Draco Malfoy's protestations otherwise, he _had_ come to the conclusion that she _was_ mostly fair. Indeed, Harry had probably earned more points for Slytherin in this class than most of his classmates combined, which, he thought with a mental eye roll, went some way towards making up for the points he did _not_ earn in Potions. He was not sure if he was just more naturally talented at Transfiguration than other branches of magic, or if he just felt more compelled to master it because he relished the amazing feeling of finally being able to have some measure of control over his surroundings.

"Your task today will be to transfigure the beetles you see in front of you into buttons," McGonagall went on. "Although before you are able to do this, we will need to go over the theory of animal transfiguration. Please open your textbooks..."

McGonagall launched into a long diatribe on the subject of animal transfiguration, and Harry dutifully started to take notes. He had come to appreciate that, despite its being vastly less exciting than actually casting the spells, theory was extremely important, and indeed, made learning to cast the spells much easier. This seemed to be true to a greater degree in Transfiguration than the other 'casting' subjects. He wondered if this was because it seemed to depend much less on incantations and wand movements than Charms or Defence.

After a while, McGonagall seemed to be drawing her lecture to a close, but not before a question had planted itself in Harry's mind. It would have to wait, as the clock was ticking fast towards the end of class. It seemed McGonagall had let her enthusiasm for the subject lead her into prolonging the lecture a wee bit more than she had perhaps planned.

"For the rest of the class, you will try to transfigure your beetle into a button. If you need help, please raise your hand," she concluded at last, proceeding to walk silently among them as they tried their best to change an insect into a haberdashery item.

Roughly thirty minutes and twenty points to Slytherin later, ("I had not actually expected any of you to be able to complete this assignment today, Potter!"), the students quietly slithered out of the classroom. Harry had been the only one to perform a perfect transfiguration, leaving a round green button where his beetle once stood, but some others had managed to produce a few half-beetle, half-button hybrids which also earned their teacher's praise. Harry had kept his habit of seating next to Tracey for this class, and after completing his own work, had managed to coach her into getting her beetle more than half-way to buttonhood.

As he gathered his gear, Harry drew close to Ted. "Wait for me outside, will you?" Harry whispered to his friend, leaning into his desk. "I've got a question for McGonagall. Shouldn't take long."

The taller boy nodded, and quickly scurried out of the classroom, hanging back just outside the door, waiting on Harry, who just stood by his desk, bag in hand, waiting for his peers to leave. McGonagall, who had herself been gathering her papers, finally raised her head and, on noticing him, raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, Potter? Is there something you would like to ask me?" She asked him, something resembling curiosity evident in her voice. Despite being the best student of the Slytherin first years, and maybe all of first year (Harry had no idea how good anyone outwith Slytherin was at Transfiguration), Harry had never actually had much interaction with McGonagall. True to his promise to himself at the beginning of the year, he had proven to her he was worth something, Slytherin or not. But he did it through quiet determination, as if he did not feel he had the right to ask questions until he had proven his aptitude. The notion was probably unworthy of McGonagall's teaching, but Harry could not help feeling that way. He nodded in response to his teacher's query.

"Yes, Professor. There's just something I don't understand about transfiguring animals," Harry started. He had puzzled this over after he had finished his assignment, but hadn't come up with any satisfactory solution. "If I transfigure a beetle into a button," he went on, touching the green button he had produced earlier, "and then transfigure the button back into the beetle, where did the beetle go in the meantime?" Harry finally asked, a puzzled frown on his face. "Is it still the same beetle afterwards? Or is it a new one?"

McGonagall smiled at his question. "A very perceptive question, Potter. Most students would not think of asking something like this I daresay, especially those who have been raised with magic." Harry blinked as McGonagall paused. Did _not_ knowing about magic actually give him an edge on something? Perhaps sensing his perplexity, McGonagall seemed to be choosing her words carefully, as she went on.

"The short answer is that the beetle _is_ the same, Potter. This is why transfiguring an animal into an inanimate object and then back again is much easier than transfiguring something that was originally an inanimate object into an animal." She paused as if to let her words sink in, then continued. "When you do the latter, you are drawing something more complex out of something simpler. We will cover this in more detail next year. As for where the beetle goes in the meantime..."

McGonagall paused with a frown, grasping for words to express the complex subject.

"That is something that even the most knowledgeable wizards and witches have not been able to determine. Transfigured animals, and indeed, people, seem to retain their existence, but where exactly they go, if anywhere, when transfigured into something inanimate is a mystery at present. Though there are, of course, various theories. If you take my class up to N.E.W.T. level, you will learn about some of them." She paused again, struck by how intently Harry seemed to be listening to her. He was, indeed, fascinated by what he was hearing, and while N.E.W.T. choices were years away, he couldn't see himself _not_ choosing to take Transfiguration. McGonagall's expression seemed to soften the slightest amount as she finished.

"You should know, Mr. Potter, that your father, James, was one of my best students. From what I have seen of your work this year, you clearly take after him... In talent for Transfiguration, anyway. I'm sure you will be more than capable of reaching N.E.W.T. level," she went on, but Harry was barely listening any more. Some strange ineffable feeing rose within him, which he could not begin to describe. It was a mixture of joy in having some connection with his long gone father, sorrow for the loss of never being able to share each small triumph with his true family, and anger for not being able to do so. A small, dark part of him was a bit put out that he was being compared with his father rather than being considered on his own terms, but he knew McGonagall had not intended her comments like that.

Harry realized something of his whirlwind of emotions must have been showing on his face, for McGonagall was no longer talking, but rather looking at him with what looked to him like a mixture of curiosity and pity. He could tell she wanted to draw him on the subject, but he really was not in the mood for talking about anything at that time, and hastened to preempt any venture down that route.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry quickly blurted, hastily pulling himself together and trying to get his emotional confusion under control. "I'm sure I will be delighted to take your N.E.W.T. class in five years time. I've got to go now, though. Thanks for answering my question!" he said, hastily grabbing his bag and darting out of the classroom before McGonagall could respond.

Harry was trembling slightly as he left, though he wasn't sure why, and he felt anger welling up inside, both at himself for being so easily affected, and ultimately, at Voldemort for killing his parents. Ted, who had waited on him patiently on the outside corridor, clearly noticed something off in Harry's countenance, so he just followed Harry in silence to the disused classroom which the two friends had made a habit of using for spell practice. Once the door was safely locked by magic, Harry threw his bag on the floor and buried his face in his hands for a few seconds, before letting out a deep sigh and shaking his head.

"Should I ask, Harry?" Ted asked, clearly wanting to engage with Harry about whatever was eating at him, but somewhat wary of doing so.

"I'm sorry Ted. Sometimes things just catch me off guard, that's all." Perplexity showed on Ted's face, so Harry explained about the information about his father he had just received from McGonagall.

"These little things just keep popping up. I always wonder just what new thing about my parents I never got the chance to learn someone is just going to randomly drop on me today. I'm not even angry at McGonagall, just..." He waved his hands in frustration, as if grasping for a target to pour out his sense of confusion and despair. "At the world..." he went on somewhat lamely. "At my relatives. At Voldemort." He ignored Ted's slight trembling at the Dark Lord's name, and punctuated his tirade by kicking an old chair, which toppled with a satisfying crash.

"I know we were planning to review our Defence homework and then practice the Fecal Expulsion Curse, but can we do something more destructive instead?" Harry pleaded with his friend. The defence replacement and self study sessions with Ted had soon expanded into learning spells that, while not exactly in the curriculum, could prove very useful at 'Defence Against Hogwarts Students'. While Mr. Nott's library was no doubt unsavoury in many other respects, it gave them access to spells that were not in the Hogwarts library, at least not without a pass to the Restricted Section. Harry wasn't sure if they were even allowed to possess books like the one they had been using at Hogwarts, but seeing as how items which he knew for sure were illegal - by law, not school rules - were not exactly rare in Slytherin, he doubted there would be much fallout from having it. The spells in it, while nasty, were not really dangerous; indeed, some _were_ part of their defence curriculum.

Ted snorted at this. He didn't seem sure if this was a healthy reaction, as his eyes still seemed to hold some concern, but if so, he seemed to be willing to play along.

"Sure Harry. I've actually been meaning to try the Blasting Curse myself..."

A trashed classroom later, Harry felt much better. He very much doubted their attempts to transfigure the destroyed furniture back to its original state would pass close inspection, but the classroom did not seem to have been used for years, so he doubted it would be subject to close inspection anytime soon. Still, he wished there was some less conspicuous way of going about this spell practising business. He would have never had attempted it had the Blasting Curse not actually been part of the official curriculum, albeit beyond first year. Still, he felt a bit better as they headed down to the Great Hall for lunch, though a dark shadow of longing still lurked within him, as well as a steely determination to be mentally stronger. He knew he could not afford to break down like that every time someone mentioned his parents.

* * *

The end of the week rolled around in a wink, and with it came their first Potions class of the new term. Snape seemed to be in an especially bad mood, and as he stormed into class, he glared in a way that seemed to include even the Slytherins, which really did not bode well for Harry. His trouble-spotting instinct was seldom wrong, and indeed, was quickly proven to be alarmingly accurate. They were normally free to choose their partner, and after his first week experience partnering with the bushy-haired Gryffindor Granger, he had worked with Ted. Granger had since taken to work with Neville Longbottom, which really was a blessing for everyone else in the classroom, and despite her grating personality, she was clearly more than competent at her work, and was able to prevent mishaps caused by Longbottom's by-now legendary ineptitude at Potions. That blessing, however, was not going to be available that day.

"You will be brewing a Babbling Beverage today," Snape began, waving his wand to make the instructions appear on the board. Before anyone actually got the chance to collect their supplies or do anything, however, he turned to face Longbottom, who withered under Snape's glare.

"Longbottom, you've been free-riding off Granger long enough. Let's see if you can at least keep your cauldron from exploding when you're working with someone who is almost as incompetent as you are. Go and work with Weasley." Snape went on, facing each student as he addressed them. "Granger, you can work with Potter, and Finnegan, you work with Nott."

With an inward groan, Harry got up to head towards Granger, whom he had not talked to since the troll incident at Halloween. Ted gave him an encouraging look, but it was clear he was not enjoying the prospect of working with Weasley's erstwhile partner. Harry wondered who had pissed in Snape's cork flakes that morning, and why Snape had not just switched Finnegan and Granger. Perhaps he was trying to get at Granger as well, for being an annoying know-it-all, and if that happened to punish Harry for, well, existing, so much the better. He put his things down next to Granger and sat next to her with a sigh of annoyance.

She didn't seem to be any more thrilled with the prospect of working with Harry than he himself was, at least judging by the expression on her face and the look of pure annoyance she threw him. Harry thought this was quite rich coming from her, especially because, the last time they had worked together, he had had to pretty much take over from her crashing and burning after Snape had been nasty towards her. He rolled his eyes as he pulled his book from his bag and opened it in the chapter covering the day's potion.

The bushy haired girl actually seemed to be vaguely impressed at this, but did not seem that willing to acknowledge it. Instead, she got up to collect the brewing materials. While she was away, Harry set up the required utensils, lit the fire under the cauldron, and scanned through the instructions. The potion did not seem that complicated compared to some things they had done the previous term, and Harry was left wondering if Snape was actually being nice to them and giving them an easier potion to break them in for the new term. That seemed terribly out of character for the man, but Harry had noticed at mealtimes during the holidays that he seemed preoccupied with something, so perhaps he had just been too busy to be mean. Or maybe there was a hidden difficulty Harry had not spotted yet. He was definitely leaning towards the latter hypothesis.

Granger presently returned with the various ingredients, and Harry was quick to grab the newt tails, which seemed to be the first ingredient to require preparation. Knife in hand, he set to slicing them neatly, as he had so often done to more mundane ingredients when cooking for the Dursleys.

Granger was still eyeing him suspiciously, but poured water in the cauldron without a word as she too read through the instructions. Once in a while, Harry noticed, she cast a surreptitious glance at Longbottom, who seemed to be collapsing under the weight of his own nervousness and was making a mess of mashing the nettles. Weasley seemed oblivious to all this, and just looked sullenly around him, clearly not willing to exert himself much in this class. Or perhaps he knew that without Granger there to help him, Longbottom would make some disastrous mistake sooner or later, and had just resigned himself to that fate. Despite finding her attitude annoying, Harry knew Granger was clever, and he hoped for a better performance from her than the last time. Perhaps Snape's dislike of Gryffindors in general, and Granger in particular, would win out over his seeming desire to pretend Harry did not even exist, let alone was a member of his House, and he would actually get the credit for a good potion.

About half an hour of frenzied work later, which had been spent in relative silence apart from short muttered instructions, all the ingredients were ready and the potion brewing phase was begun in earnest. This was slower paced, more precise work, which allowed them the leisure to look around at how their classmates were doing.

Unsurprisingly, Ted seemed to be having quite an acerbic brewing session with the Irish Gryffindor Finnegan, which was not at all conducive to the production of a good potion. Indeed, theirs was quite off from its intended orange, being a bilious yellow that Harry thought made it look quite a bit like vomit.

Weasley and Longbottom's potion seemed to be doing even worse, however, and Harry was not even sure how it was possible to get it to the bright pink colour it sported. The two Gryffindor boys seemed to be trying desperately to revert it to a more natural condition. Their expressions did not bode well, and Harry took care to protect his belongings and position himself in a way that he could duck safely were that required.

Granger clearly noticed their predicament as well, for she had taken to whispering them directions when she thought Snape was not looking. This caused her to miss a critical stir on their own potion, and only Harry's quick action saved it from what would have been a grave mistake. He glared at her once she looked back to her own work and realized her distraction.

"Focus on our work, would you? Longbottom's a big boy, and he'll never learn anything if you keep telling him what do to all the time," Harry whispered harshly.

Granger leaned towards him to reply as she dropped the dandelion roots in the fuming cauldron. "He just can't cope with Snape breathing down his neck. You'd know what that was like if you were in Gryffindor, but of course he would never disturb his precious Slytherins," she retorted in a tone that matched Harry's for harshness.

"I'd know what it was like." Harry laughed bitterly. "Snape might leave us alone in his class, but you don't know anything about what my life was like. At least Longbottom only has to deal with this in one class," Harry went on, not sure if he was revealing too much, but not really caring either way at the moment. No one had ever whispered him tips on how to deal with the Dursleys, and he had managed to learn to cope without being mollycoddled. "Besides, with some luck, the cauldron will blow up on Weasley's face and we'll be rid of him for a while. He's not exactly straining to help Longbottom anyway."

Granger looked torn between being scandalized at Harry's callousness and agreement at what she clearly considered to be academic negligence on the redhead's part. "He wasn't expecting to be working with him," was all she could muster in response.

"Well, I wasn't expecting to be working with you, but at least I'm trying to get something done here," Harry replied, giving the potion one final stir before leaving it to rest for the five minutes specified in the instructions. "Unlike your Irish mate there, who seems to be doing his best job to sabotage my friend's potion," Harry continued, noticing how Ted was clearly on the verge of losing his patience, which was something Harry had not really thought possible, given how mellow his friend usually was.

"He's not my mate," Granger replied with annoyance. "Not any more than Malfoy is yours."

 _Touché_ , Harry thought. He didn't say anything, though, opting for pouring the contents of their cauldron into a vial and taking it to Snape, who accepted it with a glance. On returning to the table, however, he returned to the previous issue. "Longbottom seems to have managed to avoid blowing up so far, Granger. Maybe he can stay alive without you after all."

Granger looked indignant, but as Snape chose that moment to dismiss the class, Harry got no reply. He quickly packed his belongings before meeting Ted near the door, where his friend was already launched on what promised to be a very long rant to Blaise and Daphne about the evils of Gryffindors. Harry patted him on the back and the four friends headed down towards the lake, intent on distracting the indignant Ted from his troubles. It was only later that night, when Harry was sorting through his class notes, that he realized he had taken Granger's copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions_ instead of his own, noticing something was amiss almost immediately when he opened the page for that day's potion and was met with a piece of muggle paper bearing only the words 'Nicholas Flamel'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da! Reviews make me happy. I really appreciate concrit, but there's no obligation to give any, even small reviews are a joy to receive.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is another chapter. Huge thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited and followed. Your feedback is greatly appreciated. 
> 
> This chapter is slightly shorter than the previous one, but contains a scene that was really hard to write and will have quite an impact on Harry. Plus, writing the next scene would have made it too long.
> 
> Without further ado, here is chapter 7.

_Whose woods these are I think I know.  
His house is in the village though;  
He will not see me stopping here  
To watch his woods fill up with snow._

_My little horse must think it queer  
To stop without a farmhouse near  
Between the woods and frozen lake  
The darkest evening of the year._

_He gives his harness bells a shake  
To ask if there is some mistake.  
The only other sound's the sweep  
Of easy wind and downy flake._

_The woods are lovely, dark and deep,  
But I have promises to keep,  
And miles to go before I sleep,  
And miles to go before I sleep._

_Robert Frost_

Even though it was a Saturday afternoon, Harry knew he would find Granger in the library, as he had seen her there many times in the past. Harry himself regularly spent at least a portion of his weekends in the library, either by himself or with his friends, so he was hardly going to pass judgement on Granger for that. In fact, he fully planned to study, but he wanted to deal with the textbook swap first.

Ted was following on Harry's wake, as Harry had enlisted his friend's help to deal with some recalcitrant Charms homework. And also, though left unstated, he could serve as Harry's backup in case things turned sour. Not that Harry expected them to, as he didn't really think Granger had it in her to break the many rules that prohibited fighting in the library. And while Harry had noticed that Granger had recently taken to studying with Neville Longbottom, he wasn't very afraid of him, certainly not if his performance in Potions and Flying lessons was anything to go by.

They crossed the library's heavy doors and waded through its massive corridors, headed towards the table Harry knew Granger usually favoured. Soon they reached their goal, a table tucked away between bookcases, where Harry could see Granger and Longbottom poring over a heavy tome which did not look like any of their textbooks. Slightly curious despite himself, Harry made his way towards the two Gryffindors as inconspicuously as he could, trying to make out the book's title before they noticed his approach.

His plans, however, were frustrated by Longbottom, who was closest to the direction from which the two Slytherins were walking, and must have noticed their approach. Soon both he and Granger were looking Harry and Ted's way with quizzical and slightly wary expressions. Harry sighed at this, but deliberately slowed his pace and lowered his bag by his side, retrieving the potions textbook from its depths; he hoped both these actions conveyed his completely harmless intentions. _And they think Slytherins are paranoid_ , thought Harry with a mental grin.

Granger was the first to break the silence, and she did not seem overly convinced by Harry's display of peaceful intentions. "What do you want, Potter?" she asked, in a tone that still reminded Harry of Aunt Petunia, though less so than it had months before on the Hogwarts Express.

Harry rolled his eyes at the hostility he could clearly perceive in her voice, and raised the Potions textbook in both hands as a way of conveying, hopefully more clearly, that he did not have any harmful intentions. "I think we mixed up each other's copies of our Potions textbook yesterday. This certainly isn't mine," he said, proffering the volume to the bushy-haired Gryffindor.

Granger looked suspiciously at the book, and seemed unduly hesitant to retrieve it from Harry's hands. Longbottom was eyeing the two Slytherins with a similar look of suspicion, though Harry thought he could see a trace of active dislike in the Gryffindor boy's glance at Ted.

Harry rolled his eyes at the two Gryffindors' ridiculous behaviour. "Oh, for Heaven's sake," he ejaculated rashly, doing his best to keep his voice down despite his exasperation. "Here, Ted, hold this," he went on, turning to his friend and offering him the book.

Grasping Harry's intentions, Ted grasped the book as well, and held it in front of himself. "Looks like I'm still alive," he spoke for the first time, and then added, deadpan, "Good thing our trap misfired."

Harry choked a laugh at this, and grabbed the book back from his friend's hands. "You're not helping, prat," Harry replied, before hitting Ted across the arm with the book. "I'll deal with you later," he said shaking his head, to which Ted only laughed. Harry turned around and laid the book on the table shared by the two Gryffindors. As he did so, he leaned slightly into the book they had open, glimpsing just a few words on its musty yellowed out pages. "Here's your book, anyway. Whether you pick it up or just leave it to rot here is your business. Can I have my copy now, please," he went on, holding out his hand.

Granger still eyed him suspiciously, but picked up the textbook slowly, as if she thought it might explode at any second. When nothing happened, she seemed to relax a bit, and confirmed it was indeed her own, before placing it in her own bag, whence she also retrieved an identical volume, which she held out to Harry. "I hadn't noticed we had got them mixed up, otherwise I would have given it to you."

Harry raised his eyebrow at this, while taking the book and lowering it onto his bag. "Would you really?" he asked. "Excuse my asking," Harry went on, not feeling sorry at all. He had very little patience for people who disliked him for no reason. "I'm not exactly feeling the goodwill here. Honestly Granger, what have I ever done to you? You can't still be bitter about that time on the train."

Despite casting the two Slytherin friends wary glances, Longbottom had kept silent through the entire conversation. But with what seemed like a monumental effort to dredge up some bravery, he finally spoke, with only a slight hint of a stutter in his voice betraying his nerves. "Hey, leave Hermione alone, Potter. It's not like it would be the first time a Slytherin would try to prank her because she's Muggleborn."

Harry scoffed. "Oh, that's really rich, coming a Gryffindor. It's not like the two biggest idiot prankers in the school are in Slytherin!" He said, his temper rising at the mention of pranks. His encounters with the Weasley twins were still a sore point for him. "When have _I_ ever pranked anyone?"

"Well, with the company you keep, why should we expect you not to?" Longbottom replied, shooting daggers at Ted with a glance.

Harry wondered what that was supposed to mean. Did Longbottom mean Ted specifically, or just other Slytherins? Surely he couldn't be surprised at Harry having friends in his own House...

Ted clearly seemed to take this as a personal attack. "What's that supposed to mean, Longbottom?" he asked, looking angrier than Harry had ever seen his friend before.

Clearly Longbottom was surprised by this reaction as well, for he seemed to revert to timidity. Still, he managed to mumble. "Everyone knows your family..." That was all he managed to get out before Ted, looking downright murderous, pulled his wand out and looked ready to curse the chubby Gryffindor, who was now looking like he had bitten off more than he could chew, his temporary fortitude having deserted him.

Harry knew he had to intervene to prevent the situation degenerating further. He reached out to his friend and pulled him backwards by his arm. "Ted, drop it," he uttered harshly in a half-whisper. "Do you want to lose points and get banned from the library for fighting?"

Granger had clearly had the same thought, as she whispered to Longbottom in a similar tone. "Neville, be quiet. This isn't what I meant by being more assertive." She even managed to shoot Harry a slightly grateful look for having had the same thought of diffusing the situation.

Harry nodded at her discreetly and turned around, dragging Ted along with him. "Come on, we can finish that Charms work later," he whispered, dragging the taller boy by the arm behind him.

Ted's anger seemed to have dissipated, but was quickly replaced by a look of dejection that was worse than Harry had ever seen in his friend. "You should go back to the common room, Harry. I'll catch up with you later," he said, bounding around a corner and out of view before Harry had the chance to object.

Harry sighed. There definitely was something odd about his friend's family. Harry had been mildly concerned before, but now his worries started to increase. Still, he knew his friend well enough by now to know that he needed to be left alone to brood things over. Ted would talk to Harry when he was ready.

* * *

Harry did not see Theodore for the rest of the day, but he did not go look for him. Ted knew how to take care of himself, and at any rate, he was quite zealous of his privacy. Harry abided by his resolve to leave him alone to figure things out, and did not set eyes on his friend until the next day, when he saw him asleep on his bed. Clearly he had stayed out until well after curfew again, and was sleeping off the effects of that.

Harry shrugged and let him sleep, going for breakfast with Blaise and Tracey, with whom he'd also had dinner the previous day. Harry was getting somewhat worried over Ted himself, as his occasional fits of moodiness did not usually last that long. However, he tried his best to ignore it, and spend the morning trying to work on a History essay with Blaise, who managed to excel at the subject despite Binns' teaching.

When he returned to the Great Hall for lunch, Harry finally spotted Ted. He looked haggard, the dark rings around his eyes indicating his lack of sleep. He was eating quite a large portion, which was slightly uncharacteristic; Harry chalked that up to his friend having missed breakfast.

Harry walked slowly towards his friend and stopped just when he reached the table, glancing at him in a silent query. Ted clearly saw him out of the corner of his eye. He was looking quite serious, and there was a quiet determination in his hazel eyes, but he nodded at Harry's unspoken question. A feeling of relief washing over him, Harry took a seat next to Ted and started grabbing some food for himself.

Ted glanced around to check if anyone was eavesdropping, then leaned his head towards Harry and whispered. "We need to talk alone. After lunch."

Harry gave him the slightest of nods. He was expecting something like that. His friend had clearly been affected by Longbottom's words. Harry recalled the conversation they had had earlier in the week when Ted had looked quite flustered at his own mention of his grandfather's book, and was quite sure that the two were connected. It wasn't that hard to connect the dots between that and Longbottom's intimation that Ted would have been happy to torment Granger for being Muggleborn, to come to the conclusion that the Nott family probably subscribed to pureblood supremacist ideas. Harry had generally avoided discussing the subject with him, or with most people in Slytherin for that matter; the one exception was, of course, Tracey, with whom he knew he shared his half-blood status.

Harry was pretty sure Ted knew he was a half-blood, however, as information about Harry's parents was in the public domain, and fairly common knowledge—Harry had certainly heard some muffled comments from older Slytherins about it, though perhaps because of his celebrity status any hostility he could have got from them was whispered and didn't manifest itself into any overt displays of aggression. Ted had not had any issues befriending him, however that might not mean much, as Malfoy certainly seemed to try to get into Harry's good graces once in a while, and he was notorious for mouthing off about 'mudbloods' in the relative privacy of the Slytherin common room and dorms. Nevertheless, Harry had never heard Ted make say anything about anyone's blood status, good or bad.

This maelstrom of conflicting thoughts came to an end as both Ted and Harry finished their meal, more or less simultaneously, Ted's early arrival being matched by Harry's smaller portion. The two friends rose and headed out of the Great Hall. By unspoken agreement neither of them spoke. Harry let his friend lead the way to his chosen venue, realizing that whatever he had to say was not going to be easy, and he could use the extra time for reflection the walk gave them.

They were heading towards the castle's doors and the grounds beyond, and Ted spoke for the first time since the whispers at lunch. "You might want to cast a warming charm on yourself, it's still quite cold outside," he said softly, as he stopped just before crossing the threshold of the school door.

Harry nodded and did so with a whispered spell, soon followed by Ted. They walked further in silence until they were a fair distance away from the school itself, towards an area of empty moor in the opposite direction from the Forbidden Forest. Ted looked around as if to check whether anyone had followed them, or whether there was anyone present already who could listen in to their conversation, but the closest person was only a small figure near the greenhouses, far enough away that they were barely able to see them, much less eavesdrop.

The taller boy looked at Harry with a determined expression, though he seemed to be dreading the task he had set up for himself. Harry said nothing, content on letting Ted take as much time as he thought he needed.

Eventually he spoke. "You must be wondering what this is all about Harry. I've been meaning to tell you about this for a while, but it was just so nice to be your friend without having to worry about being under my family's shadow. But after yesterday's spat with Longbottom, I knew I had to explain things."

Harry nodded, Ted's words matching what Harry had conjectured. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. I grew up with people who hated me because of who my parents were and because of something I couldn't change, even if they had ever told me about it. I'm not going to hate you because of what your family did," Harry told him. He hoped that by revealing a little of his own past, he would show his friend he trusted him, making it easier for him to share whatever had been eating him up.

Harry's gambit seemed to have worked to an extent, for Ted seemed to lose some of the tension in his frame and gave him a small smile, though his hazel eyes still seemed doubtful. "You probably figured from what Longbottom said yesterday that my father is not a lover of muggleborns."

Harry nodded at this. "I had actually started wondering what you weren't telling me about your family when you mentioned your grandfather's book on genealogies. I figured they would have that kind of ideas, what with your having been so worried about making it into Slytherin. But you've never said a word about that, unlike people like Malfoy who go on about it all the time. And you're my friend, despite my being a half-blood." Harry finished, trying again to reassure his friend that he was able to see him as a separate individual from his father.

Ted nodded at this, again looking microscopically less tense. "Yeah, I guess I kind of did let the cat out of the bag with that one. Maybe I just secretly wanted to let it out in the open." He shrugged. "You guessed some of it Harry, and you're right as far as that goes. But there's more that you didn't guess. I don't think you could have guessed it." Ted stopped and swallowed dry, a great inward tension overwhelming him again.

"My father, he does not just believe in blood purity, Harry. He did something about it." Ted swallowed again, but despite the enormous mental strain, he continued. "He was a Death Eater, one of the Dark Lord's inner circle. He fought for him during the war. Afterwards, he escaped conviction by claiming he was under the Imperius Curse. That's a spell that puts someone under a person's entire mental control. But I know that's not true." He uttered these words looking straight at Harry, speaking quickly, as if afraid he would lose his nerve if he tarried. "I told you I've learned how to move around our house pretty much undetected. I overheard many conversations, so I know a lot I'm not supposed to." Ted sounded anguished now, as if reliving some rather painful memories. "He doesn't know that I know... a lot of things." He looked to be close to the end of his revelations, finishing with an appeal to Harry, who had remained silent through Ted's explanation. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you this earlier; it was just easier not to. I don't know if you'll hate me now, Harry, but I thought you deserved to know, being who you are." Ted was finally done, and looked at Harry with an expectant gaze.

Harry had been careful to guard his facial expressions while the taller boy was talking, though he was definitely experiencing great emotional turmoil. Anger and feelings of betrayal raised their ugly heads inside him. He was horrified to find that his friend's father had fought for his parents' murderer. Soon, however, his own words calmed him down. As Harry himself had said, Ted was not his father. If Harry treated him like he was, he was no better than the Dursleys. And Harry could not actually fault Ted for not telling him sooner. Harry was hardly free with details of his own family life. He wouldn't have been anyway, but in Slytherin, it was very easy for such details to end up being told to the wrong persons and used against one. He got the need to build trust—and then, why Ted had been reluctant to say anything for fear of ruining their incipient friendship.

"Theodore," Harry started, using his friend's Christian name to emphasize the solemnity of what he was saying, "you were right, I definitely hadn't guessed that. I don't quite know what to think. I don't want to be angry at you for what your father did. But, and I know this is not something I 'should' ask about, you never told me what _you_ think. You never said anything about it... but for all I know that just means you are better at keeping things to yourself than Malfoy is. For all I know, you're just befriending me as part of a plan by Voldemort's followers." Ted flinched at this, whether at the meaning of Harry's words or his use of Voldemort's name, Harry didn't know. He hated himself for saying this, but he needed to lay things out in the open. "I don't want to believe that, Ted, I really don't. But I need you to come clean with me. Just where do you stand? Do you think Voldemort was right? Do you think I should have been killed when I was a baby, and my parents with me?"

Ted looked as horrified at hearing these final words as Harry was at saying them, but sometimes strong, frank language was required. Even with Slytherins. "No! Harry, I don't!" he said quickly, before taking a deep breath and continuing more calmly. "I don't know what my father was like before the War, as I was only one when it ended. But before she died, my mother told me he was a much different person before it all started. Fighting for the Dark Lord turned him into a horrible person. It didn't change much even after the Dark Lord was gone. He's just a bitter man who hates everything now. I... I would have nothing to do with whatever did that to him..." Ted went on, getting more worked up the further he spoke. "Not that he didn't know what he was doing, because he did. I'm not trying to excuse him," he added hastily to avoid misunderstanding.

There was a silence as Harry thought through Ted's words. It seemed, however, that the taller boy wasn't finished. "And I don't give a shit if you're a half-blood. I don't like Granger because she's a conceited know-it-all, not because she's muggleborn. You've got to believe me, Harry. I'm your friend because I want to be, not because my father put me up to it. And I would never sell out my friends, not to him, not to the Dark Lord himself. I don't..."

Ted was ready to continue, but Harry quickly bridged the space between them and laid his hand on his friend's shoulder. A small part of him was wary and convinced he was being foolish to believe in Ted's words, but most of Harry's being screamed against it. Perhaps he couldn't put into words why exactly he felt like that, but nevertheless he did. He was convinced his friend was not lying to him, that he was indeed his friend and was not simply pretending at his father's biding. For one thing, if he was, why would he have told him his father had been one of Voldemort's followers. He would have simply said he was a believer in blood purity and had been bewitched into acting for the Dark Lord, which would have explained Longbottom's words completely. No, Harry was almost sure he should trust his friend. And as for the small uncertainty, well, living required taking risks.

Harry squeezed Ted's shoulder and finally spoke. "I believe you Ted, I really do." Harry smiled and let go, as did the tension which had been gripping his friend's body and mind. The taller boy let out a large sigh, and Harry went on. "I'm sorry for what I said. But I needed to know, and I thought I'd be more likely to get something out of you if I got you worked up."

Ted nodded, and then spoke softly. "I'm beginning too see why you got into Slytherin," he said in a tone that had regained a vague sense of amusement.

Harry guffawed a bit and shrugged. "Hardly. Anyway, I was also a bit shocked. I'm sure you can understand that." He looked straight at his friend before continuing. "Thank you for telling me about it, though. Of course I understand that that's not the sort of thing you go about telling everyone. Don't worry, I'll keep quiet," he finished, smiling.

Ted looked at him with a grateful look. "Thank you, Harry. I just couldn't not tell you after you told me about your Cloak. I'll be worth your trust, I promise you," he said.

Harry had wondered if he had done the right thing in sharing that with Ted. While it turned out his friend _had_ been holding something back from him, telling him had turned out for the best. While he had perhaps been slightly _too_ free with his trust, sometimes you had to give trust before receiving it. He was now sure he had made a friend for life.

"So, with all that nonsense with Granger and Longbottom, we never did get to work on that Charms problem," Harry said, and made to walk back to the Castle.

Ted followed him, his face relaxed and happy. He almost looked like a different man. "Oh, it's not that complicated. We don't really need to go to the library, we'll work it through it in the common room."

The two friends walked back towards the school at a relaxed pace, as the sun went down over the mountains and shadows lengthened on the ground. Soon darkness would arrive for another night. All felt alright in the world.

* * *

Harry found himself playing Wizards' chess with Blaise, a quiet evening in their common room. Harry wasn't very good at the game, never having had much opportunity to practice it before coming to Hogwarts. Still, he was slowly improving, and the animated chess pieces no longer shouted contradictory advice at him, which made the whole experience a lot less stressful. Even though the rules were the same, it was amazing how much more interesting the game became just from having magical pieces.

"That book you got me for Christmas was really interesting, Blaise. I'd never known anything about my family before." Harry started, wanting to sound out Blaise, whom he knew to be the best of their year at History. Harry didn't want to give too much away, but had by now learned that revealing something first was a very good way to earn people's trust.

Blaise nodded, and made his next move, ordering his knight to take Harry's bishop. As Harry considered his own move, Blaise replied, "You're welcome. I thought you'd enjoy knowing something about where you came from, what with you being raised by muggles and all."

Harry nodded at this, opting to remain in silence, considering his next move and letting the other boy keep talking.

Blaise obliged him after a short wait. "That's why I find history so interesting. It's so annoying that Binns is such a terrible teacher, so people actually get turned off just by mentioning it."

Harry grinned at that, ordered his rook to move, and replied to Blaise. "Binns really is terrible, and you do explain things a lot better than he does." Harry actually did think Blaise explained things quite well when they were studying together, and praise had never hurt anyone. The other boy was more likely to expand on the topics Harry actually wanted to talk about if he knew Harry thought he communicated well.

Blaise indeed flushed a little at Harry's comment, but merely nodded and replied dryly. "In fairness, it'd be hard to explain worse than Binns does." He ordered another move.

"But to be honest," Harry continued in reply, "I just can't get into it the way you do. This time was an exception though. I really devoured the stuff on my family. I would've never thought someone would write an entire chapter of a book on my family."

"There aren't that many of us when you come down to it," Blaise explained, while Harry was still considering his next move. "So you can give a lot of room to a single family, especially when you're already limiting yourself to a single region like Bagshot was."

Harry issued his own order to his rapidly diminishing chess set, before replying. "Is she the same person who wrote our History of Magic textbook? Is she reliable?" Harry asked, getting to the meat of what he meant to talk about.

Blaise nodded vigorously in reply. "Oh yes, she's quite good. I mean, you've seen she isn't a very exciting read, but she's quite competent, and doesn't make many speculations. Sticks to the facts, that one does." He finished by ordering his queen to put Harry's king in check.

Harry had been hoping that was the case. "That's good to know. Because, well, I kind of wondered if lots of people would be making up family connections to important historical figures to make their family sound older and more important than it really is..." He trailed, hoping Blaise would expand on that. He also ordered a move, though at that point he was almost sure he would lose that game.

Blaise was nodding vigorously at this, smiling knowingly. "I was wondering if you'd think about that. Yes, lots of people do that. Bagshot is pretty good at telling the bogus claims from the good ones, though. Besides, she was basically your parents' next door neighbour. Lived in the same village. Probably knew your parents and the older Potters personally. I think you'll find everything she writes quite reliable." Another check.

Harry's ears perked up at this. Bagshot would've actually have known his parents. He made a mental note to find out where she lived as soon as possible. He couldn't believe he had never considered where his parents had lived. Then a sad shadow entered his mind. That would have probably been the place they had died, the place where Voldemort had tried to kill him. The place Harry would have grown up in had Voldemort not killed his parents that fateful Halloween. Harry definitely wasn't in the mood for chess any more, and he was very close to losing in any case. He toppled his king.

"You win," he said, smiling sadly. Blaise must have noticed something was amiss, for he was looking at Harry with a frown, but Harry did his best to scrub any traces of sadness from his face. He still had one more question for Blaise.

"I'm getting quite interested in this subject. Do you have any books about magical families in the rest of the country?" If Bagshot lived in the South West, then of course it made sense for her to focus on that specific region, but Harry actually wanted to know who else was connected to the Peverells. Besides, if more books corroborated Bagshot's account, the likelier it was to be true.

Blaise nodded again. "I'm glad I'm getting you interested in at least _some_ history," he said, grinning. "There is a really good book, also really reliable, called _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_. I can owl my mum to send me her copy for you to borrow if you'd like to read it."

Harry did want to read it, and quickly said so. "I'll owe you one Blaise," he said, acknowledging the previously unmentioned debt. Armed with Blaise's promise to owl his mother, Harry thought he was making progress. Mentally weary from the series of chess matches, the two boys marched to their dorm in silence.

* * *

It was a quiet, weekday evening and dinner was almost over. Many students had already left the Great Hall to return to their common rooms, or to finish more work at the library. Harry, however, was staying put, his dessert being consumed at a much slower pace than normal for him. He carefully eyed the Ravenclaw table next to theirs in what he hoped was a discreet manner. Since meeting the Ravenclaw prefect, Alex Campbell, Harry had been wondering how to use their mutual grudge against the Weasley twins to team up to get back at them. He thought he finally had composed his plan, and now he needed to talk to the older boy about it. Harry just hoped that despite being a prefect, he was not averse to some rule-breaking himself. Harry found it difficult to approach the Ravenclaw, who being older and a prefect to boot felt more like an authority figure than a peer to him. Harry didn't trust authority figures much, and wanted to get the whole thing done with as quickly as possible, but the sixth year Ravenclaws seemed to be lingering at their table for a long time.

Just as Harry was about to run out of pudding, and wondering whether he would have to eat any more food he didn't particularly want to keep his charade going, the group of Ravenclaw sixth years started to break up. Harry had picked up Campbell would be going on prefect duty that night, which was the perfect occasion to catch him alone. Just as the older boy separated himself from his friends and walked towards the hall's side door, Harry nonchalantly rose and followed him unobtrusively. Once it was clear they were the only two occupants of that corridor, Harry sped up to catch Campbell, letting his footsteps echo in the empty space. He didn't want to scare the Ravenclaw by coming upon him by surprise.

Campbell turned around once Harry made himself known, slightly warily, but a smile graced his face as he saw who it was, and he slowed his pace to allow Harry to catch up to him. "Hello Potter. How've you been?" He asked, clearly still mindful of Harry's help in what Harry liked to call the Cupboard Incident. "Enjoying the new term?"

Harry caught up to the older boy and started walking beside him. He hoped he had the right approach. "Campbell," he started by nodding. "Have you told anyone about what happened with the Weasleys?" He asked, trying to be tactful by avoiding any mentions of what had actually happened.

Campbell's face darkened at this, but he answered. "I wasn't going to, but Morag insisted I talk to Professor Flitwick about it." He shrugged. "He said pretty much what I was expecting: that he didn't doubt I was telling the truth and the twins _were_ the culprits. But due to the way it all happened I was going to need some sort of proof."

Harry nodded again. "Yeah, I was expecting that, but I thought it was worth a try. I've had a few run-ins with the Weasley twins myself," Harry offered by way of explanation.

Campbell grimaced. "Bloody idiots, aren't they? Bloody Gryffindor prefects don't take the problem seriously, seem to think they would be everyone's friends if we'd let them." He rolled his eyes.

Harry composed his face, trying to look wistful. If things went wrong, he needed to be able to deny any intention of committing mischief. Whether he could do that hinged on how convincing he could make his performance. It was important that it didn't look like he had planned this in advance. "If only there was something somebody could do..." he trailed, letting the older boy draw his own conclusions if he wanted to.

"They've had their share of detentions," Campbell explained. "But they're always very careful about not being caught when they do something _really_ big. Can't really do anything about it without proof."

Harry nodded, still doing his level best to look as innocent as a dove. "Has anyone ever tried to get back at them by themselves..." he trailed again.

Campbell stopped and looked around, as if to check they were really alone. Harry's heart raced. Either he had just acquired a partner in crime, or he was in trouble. "Some people have tried," Campbell said, his voice lower than it had been the last time he spoke. "Sometimes they even succeed, but that just makes the twins retaliate. It tends to create a tit-for-tat cycle until one of the Professors, usually McGonagall, puts a stop to it."

Campbell was still looking at Harry expectantly, which Harry took to be his cue to proceed. Still, he was careful. "So, they could usually tell who had got them. But they must have tons of enemies by now. If they couldn't trace it to anyone, and it was something that got them into trouble with the Professors to begin with, they would just have to suffer through it, wouldn't they?" Harry asked, feeling he could let on more of what was really on his mind, as the older boy seemed willing to entertain his ideas so far.

"I suppose so," Campbell replied. "Why are you asking me that, Potter? Do you have some sort of scheme in mind?"

"Well, that depends on how willing you are to put away your prefect badge in order to get back at them. If you're not, we'll just pretend this whole conversation never happened..." Harry trailed, still unsure as to what lengths the older boy was willing to go to.

"Tell me what you're thinking, and regardless of whether I go along with it or not, I won't tell anyone," the older boy replied, looking slightly perplexed, and yet intrigued by Harry's suggestion.

Knowing he could speak freely, Harry told him his plan.

After the slightly convoluted explanation, Campbell laughed. "That's not badly thought out, I must say, Potter. No wonder you got put into Slytherin. There's a few things I would change, though..." The two boys talked in hushed tones for the better part of half an hour, before each going their own way, the Ravenclaw on his patrol route, Harry back to the dungeons. They would still have to iron things out and set a date, but a happy agreement had been reached. The more he got to know Ravenclaws, the more he liked them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please, please review. I'm especially keen to hear what worked for you, and what didn't.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are again with a new chapter. Longer than usual, to compensate for the previous one having been shorter. :) 
> 
> Many thanks to everyone who's given me feedback. I appreciate every single review.
> 
> Without further ado, here's the chapter.

_I sing the Body electric;  
The armies of those I love engirth me, and I engirth them;  
They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,  
And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the Soul.  
Walt Whitman_

Harry and Daphne walked slowly down one of Hogwarts many corridors. Outside the windows all was white, for the snow still completely covered the grounds. It was only in the distance that the white blanket was broken by the rising forms of the trees of the Forbidden Forest. It was a Saturday, and the morning had greeted them with the absence of the clouds which for weeks had been denying them sunlight. While it was still quite cold, the day no longer felt like a drab, grey, slightly brighter extension of the night; the sunlight reflected heavily off the snow, its glare blinding those who stared at it for too long.

"It's so unfair that first years are not allowed brooms," Daphne was saying. "I can understand not being able to play Quidditch, but if we can't have our brooms, how are we supposed to practice for next year?! They're really harming our chances of getting into the team in second year..."

Harry nodded distractedly. He had heard this same rant a few times already, so he just took to looking through the windows they were passing and trying to gauge the state of the snow outside. His only experience of snowball fights had been Dudley and his goons mercilessly pelting him the one time snow in Surrey had laid long enough for such a thing to be possible. In the Highlands, deep abiding snow was a much more common occurrence. He wondered if a one-on-one exchange of snowy missiles with him would lighten up Daphne's mood; she was quite edgy, and most of their yearmates had stayed clear of her all day. But as would be remarked many times throughout the years, Harry had no sense of danger. Just as he was considering whether there were spells to apply to snowballs to make them more effective, Harry was jerked out of his thoughts by the noise of shouting voices echoing down the corridors.

Daphne clearly heard them too. She stopped and stared straight ahead, but there was no one they could see. The noise was echoing through the empty hallways, which explained why it sounded so distorted. Harry could tell people were shouting, but couldn't make out what was being said. He did think he could recognize at least one of the voices, though.

"I think that's Granger," Harry told Daphne softly.

She raised an eyebrow at this. "Sounds like you remember her voice quite well, Harry," Daphne replied with a smirk. She kept her tone low as well, though.

Harry flushed at this, but summoned enough presence of mind to reply. "Jealous Daphne?" he replied.

As the voices dimmed, their owners calmer, Harry watched with mirth as it was Daphne's turn to blush. "Jealous? In your dreams, Potter." She scoffed, and Harry chuckled. Despite having slowed their pace when they first heard the loud echoes, they were approaching a sharp right angle in the corridor, and the voices were becoming clearer.

Just as they reached the sharp corner, Harry held out his arm sideways and stopped. Stopping as well to avoid hitting his arm, Daphne raised an eyebrow at Harry. Nevertheless, she did not attempt to break their stealth.

Harry peeked around the corner, wishing he had his invisibility cloak with him. He could see Granger, Longbottom and Weasley. Granger seemed to be somewhat distressed, arguing forcefully with the redhead, while Longbottom looked on haplessly from the side.

"We just need to keep trying. I'm sure we just haven't been thorough enough. We're bound to find out something soon," she said, her voice rising again.

Weasley frowned at this. "Soon? We've been looking for months, and you must have read the entire library by now. We still haven't found anything, and I'm starting to doubt there's anything to find in the first place!" he exclaimed, his temper clearly rising; his voice rose too, coming more clearly to Harry, as Weasley's face started matching his hair in tone.

Harry was listening intently, and he could tell Daphne was mildly curious, for though she remained hidden and made no effort to look at the three Gryffindors, he could see out of the corner of his eye that her head was tilted in their direction and her ears perked up to listen.

Granger clearly was having none of it. "But you heard Hagrid. You heard him say whatever it was, it was between Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel. And if whatever is under that trap door is important enough to put a three-headed dog guarding it, then Nicholas Flamel is important enough to be in a book." Her frustration with Weasley's recalcitrance was clear in her voice, and she continued, all sense of secrecy thrown to the wind. "And if you had helped me like Neville did, we could have gone through the books a lot quicker!"

Harry had to suppress a snicker at this. Of course Weasley wouldn't have put in any work. But he was more interested in the reappearance of that mysterious name, Nicholas Flamel. Apparently, he was connected to the three-headed dog. That was interesting.

Weasley clearly didn't feel very ashamed of that, as he replied without missing a beat. "Honestly, you know Hagrid. He's great, but do you think Dumbledore would actually tell him his secrets? He's probably just making a mare's nest out of the whole thing. And I said I'd help you because you were helping me, not because I thought it made any sense. But you're just wasting your time now."

"So you don't care about Snape stealing it?" Granger retorted, a hint of histrionics creeping into her voice. "I should have known you were just trying go get me to do your work for you. Why did I ever think I was wrong about you, Ronald Weasley," she said, almost in tears.

Harry saw her turn her back to Weasley and run away, towards himself and Daphne. "Well done, Ron," he heard Longbottom say, and scoffed along. But Harry didn't have time to focus on Weasley's idiocy; he knew he had to make it look like he and Daphne had just arrived, and had not been eavesdropping.

He took a step backwards, forgetting that Daphne could only rely on her hearing, and would thus not realize as quickly as he did that Granger was coming their way. As his body collided with Daphne's, Harry could feel her lose her balance and try to right herself, but doing so pushed Harry himself forward. In the moments this took, Granger was rounding the corner, a heavy book on her hands, and not paying much attention to where she was going.

The book hit right into Harry's midsection, and any efforts he and Daphne had made to try to right themselves were completely wasted. They were both thrown back, but fortunately for what was left of their dignity they managed to disentangle themselves in mid-air, landing sprawled side-by-side on their backs, a few feet away from where they originally stood. Granger herself lost her balance as well, and landed on her front, the book protecting her from the worst of the impact. She managed to land right between Harry and Daphne, weighing them both down.

While his body hurt from the impact, Harry thought that, all-in-all, their collision was actually quite convenient to disguise their eavesdropping.

"What the hell was that," he started, with feigned surprise. "Granger, why don't look at where the bloody hell you're going?" he said, sounding indignant. He slid to the side to free himself from the Gryffindor's weight, and propped his upper body on his hands before leaping back up.

While Daphne had also released herself from under Granger, she was still on the floor. Harry held out a hand to his fellow Slytherin, before realizing that Daphne was looking at Granger with a sympathetic look. Nevertheless, when Harry offered his hand, she took it, pulling herself quickly back up.

However, once she was back on her feet, Daphne crouched to help the fallen Gryffindor. With a twinge of guilt, Harry approached her as well, and picked Granger's book and the parchments she had dropped. Meanwhile, Daphne had helped her to her feet, and though Granger was trying to hide it, Harry could see shimmering tears in her eyes.

Harry realized with a twinge of guilt that, were it not for Daphne's silent prompting, he probably wouldn't have lifted a finger to help Granger. It wasn't his problem. Yet just a few short months ago, wouldn't he have liked someone to help him when he was being tormented by Dudley and his friends? Would he have considered ' _it's not my problem_ ' as an excuse?

Granger was looking down, trying to readjust her clothes into a semblance of normality, while also taking a deep breath to calm down.

Harry was aware of Weasley and Longbottom moving towards the three of them, but acting like he wasn't, he held out the discarded book and assorted parchments to her. "No booby traps today either, I promise," he said wryly, remembering the Potions textbook exchange.

Granger meekly accepted the book, mumbling a quiet, "Thanks," but Daphne was not content to let her go.

"Are you alright, Granger?" she asked, frowning. She cast a frightful glance at Ron Weasley, who had just reached the three of them and stood puzzled, Longbottom on his heels.

When the latter saw them, he seemed to become even more embarrassed than he already was. He probably remembered confronting Harry and Ted in the library.

"Did this idiot make you cry?" Daphne asked, her voice rising. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at the redhead. Harry cocked an eyebrow. He wasn't sure if Daphne was just doing that to distract the Gryffindors from wondering whether she and Harry were listening in, but her anger sounded genuine.

Granger seemed to be surprised at this development, and Harry couldn't blame her; he hadn't seen it coming either. She spluttered, grasping for words, and looking like she might start crying again.

Weasley was the first to react. "What do you care? Mind your own business, Slytherin," he blustered angrily.

Daphne kept her wand on the redhead. "So you don't deny it?" she replied coolly, with a dangerous undertone to her voice that Harry had never heard before. Harry's instincts told him shit was about to go down, and even though he itched to go for his wand, his better judgement told him doing so might escalate the situation further. He nervously glanced around for the presence of a teacher or a prefect, but there was no one nearby who could be of any help.

Weasley's face turned as red as his hair as Daphne's words sunk in. "Hermione was just having a little talk with us about homework, not that it's any of your business," he replied hastily.

"Is this true, Granger? Are you really just upset over homework?" Daphne asked, sparing Granger the briefest of glances. She looked like she didn't want the answer to be yes.

"No, I..." Granger started, having regained a bit of her composure, but still distraught and unsure of what to make of the Slytherin girl's intervention. "We weren't..."

But no one ever got to hear what they weren't, for Daphne didn't want to hear anything else after the first two words. "Didn't think so," she said in a steely tone, her eyes firmly on Weasley. Of course, Daphne knew exactly what had happened, though Granger didn't know that. " _Expecto excrementum_ ," she cast, and a jet of dark brown light left the tip of her wand and struck Weasley right in the chest. His face contorted with agony as he looked like he was desperately trying to control his bowels.

Now they had come to blows, Harry saw no reason not to grab his wand like he'd been yearning to do since they had been joined by Weasley. He looked at Longbottom, who looked too surprised to react, and was frozen in place. Granger looked torn between helping her Housemates and relishing Weasley's humiliation. Harry thought that if they left Longbottom alone, Granger wouldn't be likely to intervene.

Just as Harry was considering his next move, Weasley's strength gave out, and with a sound that reminded Harry of a fart cushion Dudley had been given for his sixth birthday, a disgusting odor filled the hall.

" _Levicorpus_ ," Harry cast. As Weasley was lifted up by one ankle, dropping his wand with a clatter of wood hitting stone, the smell cleared slightly. Harry had killed two birds with one stone.

Longbottom looked up, and then despite his obvious uncertainty, grabbed his wand. He seemed to hesitate between helping Weasley, who was red with mortification and screaming for help, or turning on the two Slytherins.

Daphne, not concerned about either of the Gryffindor boys, turned to face Granger. "You can't let idiots like Weasley affect you so much, Granger. And don't let them take advantage of you. For all the brains you have, sometimes you're just plain stupid."

Granger spluttered, and Longbottom looked insulted on her behalf. Daphne shrugged, looked up at Weasley, raised her wand and cast " _Liberacorpus_ ," releasing the redhead, who fell to the floor with a thud. "Go change your undies, Weasley. You stink," she said deadpan, before turning to Harry. "Come on, Harry. Let's go outside before it gets dark."

Harry still felt somewhat overtaken by events, but he shrugged and, keeping his wand out and glancing behind occasionally, followed the black-haired girl down the corridor.

Weasley didn't make any move to retaliate, however, as he seemed too dejected to care, moaning on the floor. Harry did spy Granger kicking him in the ribs, and telling him "Serves you right," before persuading Longbottom to lower his wand and leave the scene with her, abandoning Weasley to quite literally wallow in his own shit.

Soon they were outside, and after a quick stroll through the snow, Harry felt the wet coldness of a snowball hit him right in the neck. He was so lost in his thoughts he had not even noticed Daphne readying it. The scuffle with the Gryffindors had made him forget all about snowball battles, but Daphne had had the same thought!

"I'll get you for this, Greengrass," Harry shouted at her as she ran away. He crouched and picked up his own bundle of snow, and dodged another soft white missile from her. Harry threw his, and to his surprise found it connected.

"Bloody wars, Potter, I'll get _you_ for this!" she exclaimed, running for cover behind a fallen tree.

The two Slytherins spent a good two hours acting in a most un-Slytherin manner. Tired and wet, they walked back to the castle at a slow walk, busily applying drying charms to their clothes.

Harry was the first to break the silence, recalling the day's earlier events. "What was the deal with Granger and Weasley? I couldn't figure out if you were actually trying to defend her, or just trying to distract her from what we were doing there."

Daphne frowned at the memory. "Can't it be both?" After letting Harry think on that for a second, she went on. "Everyone outside Slytherin thinks we never do things without a hidden motive and then only when we have something to gain. But you _can_ help someone just because you feel like it, and at the same time see to it that as long as you're doing it, you collect something from it later." She shrugged. "Your thinking is too black and white."

Harry was listening quite closely to Daphne. He took the opportunity of a pause in her speech to intervene. "You seem to have thought a lot about this."

Daphne shrugged again, still frowning. "It just annoys me. Did you see how Granger barely believed I was helping her? Because of course a Slytherin would never help someone if there wasn't something in it for them. Yet Longbottom is scared of his own shadow and no one ever thinks he shouldn't be in Gryffindor. I shouldn't have bloody bothered." She stopped to grab a snowball and threw it at the approaching castle wall in frustration.

Harry laid his hand on his friend's shoulder and shook her slightly. "Relax, Daphne. You're right, you know," he said, finishing with a smile which he hoped was soothing. "I don't think anybody expected me to be in Slytherin, what with my parents having been in Gryffindor and all. Then McGonagall starts looking at me like I've grown a second head. I think she's getting over it, though. Apparently she taught them, and my father was a big Transfiguration prodigy."

"Guess you take after him, then," Daphne said, grinning.

"I suppose. But my point is, I've had people act surprised when I tried to talk to them, and I'm almost sure that's because I'm in Slytherin. I know what people think of us, and I know that most of it is bullshit." Harry shrugged. "I've had people make stupid assumptions about me all my life, and treat me like shit because of it." Harry felt he could tell Daphne this much, as he wasn't being very specific anyway.

The thought suddenly occurred to him of whether he was actually conforming to Slytherin stereotypes by worrying about divulging too much information about his past? He pondered that for a while, but dismissed it. He didn't like talking about it even before he had found out he was a wizard.

"It doesn't hurt to say it aloud once or twice, though. If everyone thinks these bad things about you, you can start believing it yourself," Daphne replied passionately.

Harry considered this, and he had to grant his friend could have a point. The Dursley's constant barrage of putdowns had sometimes made him believe he was a worthless freak. He nodded; Daphne was right, but he didn't feel like dwelling on the past just then.

"You're right," he said with a sigh. "Maybe you should tell people in other houses that, though. You can start with Granger," he finished with a grin.

Daphne smirked. "I would, but I doubt she would take the time to listen to me."

Harry laughed. "What, after your daring rescue today? I'm quite ashamed of myself, I thought I was supposed to be the hero in that type of thing," he said, only half-joking. He did feel a bit ashamed of his general inaction during the whole thing.

Daphne looked slightly embarrassed. "Well, I thought Weasley was being a real twat, just using her to copy her answers," she said. "And, I suppose I was feeling a bit annoyed already and Weasley was a convenient target to let some steam off," she added after a pause.

They both laughed. "Well, maybe you should explain that to her," Harry said.

Daphne looked thoughtful. "Maybe I should," she replied.

Harry nodded, doubting she would actually go through with it. It was quite easy to fall prey to the huge inertia against breaking down house barriers, especially between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Still, a part of him wished she would. His mind went over the entire incident again, and they crossed the castle doors in silence.

Suddenly the memory of the textbook exchange hit him. "Do you remember what Weasley and Granger were talking about when we found them?" Harry asked Daphne, lowering his voice now that they were inside and could be more easily heard.

"Doing some research on something to do with the forbidden third-floor corridor, wasn't it?" she replied.

Harry nodded. "Do you remember when Snape made me work with Granger on Potions class?" He asked. At Daphne's nod, he continued. "We got our textbooks mixed up, and hers had a note inside it with the name 'Nicholas Flamel' written on it." Harry explained.

"Oh yes, that was who they were talking about, wasn't it? That name sounds familiar, but I just for the life of me can't think of where I've heard it. Was that why you stopped to listen to what they were saying?"

Harry shrugged. "To be honest, I just didn't want to ruin my day by having to deal with them." Daphne chuckled at this, and Harry went on. "Their mentioning Nicholas Flamel did get my interest, though. Especially since they seem to think the three-headed dog in the third floor corridor is guarding something of his."

"They did say something about a three-headed dog. Did you already know about it?" Daphne asked, sounding slightly put out at not having been told.

Cursing inwardly at his slip of the tongue, Harry replied. "I did. Ted was actually the one who found it, and he showed it to me. It really wasn't my story to tell," Harry offered by way of explanation, figuring that while he hadn't meant to talk about it, it didn't actually matter if he did. He was more annoyed at the principle of the thing: it _could_ have been important to keep a secret.

Daphne nodded, seemingly accepting this backhanded apology. "Why would you put a three-headed dog in a school?" She shuddered. "Didn't they say they heard about this Flamel bloke from the gamekeeper?"

Harry nodded. "They did. Maybe I should go visit him again soon to ask him about it."

"Again? You've gone to talk to him before?" Daphne asked, sounding slightly scandalized.

Harry frowned. "Hagrid was the first person to tell me I was a wizard. He delivered my Hogwarts letter," he explained forcefully.

Daphne looked at Harry in surprise. "You're always full of surprises, aren't you, Harry? Do you realize he's almost certainly a half-giant?"

Harry frowned. "Half-giant? You mean there are actual _giants_?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

Daphne laughed. "I always forget you're pretty much muggleborn, even if your parents were wizards." She turned serious again before continuing to speak. "There are giants. They're about twenty feet tall, kind of dumb, and very vicious. They're also resistant to most spells, which makes them even more dangerous."

"But Hagrid's not like that at all!" Harry exclaimed, but as soon as the words left his lips he realized how week his objection sounded, even to himself.

"He's not twenty feet tall, but he's only _half_ giant," Daphne countered. "And he doesn't really seem like the sharpest knife in the drawer to me. You've obviously talked to him a lot more than I have though. Can you tell me I'm wrong?"

Harry sighed. "Maybe he's not hugely clever, but he's not stupid!" Harry replied, heat rising to his face. He had already tarried in talking to Hagrid for fear of what his housemates would say, he was not going to let someone he considered a friend slander the friendly groundskeeper without coming to his defence. "And he's most certainly not vicious. Would Dumbledore keep him around the school if he was?"

"The same Dumbledore who keeps a three-headed dog in a school corridor first years can get into?" Daphne pointed out dryly.

"You were just going on at people judging you for being a Slytherin, but aren't you doing the same thing here?" Harry asked, his temper rising again. He didn't want to damage his friendship with Daphne, but he wasn't going to not defend Hagrid either.

Daphne turned to him, and to Harry's surprise her expression softened the slightest bit, though she still looked doubtful. "You're a good friend, Harry. I don't think that's really the same thing, though. Being half-giant means he's not entirely human!"

Harry took Daphne's softening as an indication that she was willing to be convinced, and calming himself down. "Come with me to visit him tomorrow, then," said Harry, not daring to think this proposal through in case his common sense prevented him from uttering it. "I'll prove you I'm right, _and_ we'll get him to tell us about Nicholas Flamel."

To his surprise, Daphne stopped and grinned at him. "Sometimes I think you really should have been in Gryffindor, Harry. Suggesting that is quite bold," she said playfully. Harry blinked, but before he could say anything, Daphne added, "Let's do it."

"Really?" Harry said, surprised at this turn of events.

"Yeah, I mean, I guess if you're friends with him he can't really be _that_ dangerous or stupid. So why not? I'll try to keep an open mind, but don't expect me to be convinced easily, if at all," she warned as they descended a long stairwell that took them just a little ways from their common room.

"I guess that's all I can ask," Harry said. He still didn't understand what made Daphne tick at all, but he found her all the more interesting for that.

They walked in silence for a while, before a thought hit Harry. "If giants are about twenty feet tall, how is it even possible for them to have a child with a human?" Harry said, mental pictures too dreadful to describe passing through his mind.

Daphne started laughing out loud at this, and before any more thought could be given to the horrifying subject, they reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

" _Shibboleth_ ," Daphne said between fits of laughter, drawing the gaze of the students within. That was going to be interesting to explain.

* * *

As promised, the next day, a Sunday, Harry was walking through the snow towards Hagrid's cabin. Daphne was beside him, looking skeptical. Apparently a good night's sleep had made her question the wisdom of her readily accepting Harry's proposal the day before. Despite her reluctance, she didn't seem interested in backing out.

Harry had warned Hagrid via owl post that he was bringing a friend, but he was still nervous. The last thing he wanted was for Hagrid to say something stupid about Slytherins and confirm Daphne's bad opinion of him.

"Please don't ask him how he was conceived," Harry said in an attempt to distract his friend as much as himself.

Daphne laughed, recalling the previous day's conversation. Harry's revulsion didn't seem to be shared by the black haired girl, who thought it was incredibly funny, and spent the rest of the day coming up with increasingly unlikely scenarios that stretched the bounds of imagination and good taste. Harry had rarely been that embarrassed. It didn't help that Daphne was a girl, either.

"You're so Victorian, Harry. It's adorable," she said. "Don't worry, I wouldn't ask something like that until I'd known him for a week at least."

Harry wondered for a moment if she was serious, but her half-disguised grin told him his distraction had worked, and she seemed more at ease with the idea of meeting Hagrid.

Soon they reached the groundskeeper's cabin, smoke hovering above it from a fire within. With a glance at Daphne to check if she was still okay with the prospect, Harry knocked on the door, convinced by her resolute look that she was determined to go through with it.

There was a noise inside the cabin, and soon Hagrid's massive form was beaming down upon them. "'ello there, 'Arry!" he boomed. "An' who's yer friend?" he continued, looking suspiciously at the Slytherin crest on Daphne's robes.

"Hagrid, this is Daphne Greengrass," Harry said, trying to sound casual. He hoped he could steer the two into getting along. "She's my year mate from Slytherin. She's going to be a Quidditch star next year," he added, grinning.

Daphne looked slightly bashful at Harry's introduction. Hagrid still didn't seem entirely as jovial as he had when Harry had met him alone, but he stood aside and beckoned the pair of Slytherins into his home.

"'ello Daphne, yeh can call me Hagrid," he said by way of introduction. "'Ave a seat, th'both o'yeh," Hagrid continued, pointing at the table, while he went towards the fire and retrieved a whistling kettle from it.

Harry and Daphne took their seats at two of the enormous stools surrounding the table, looking at each other in silence. Daphne was looking around at the cabin with distaste, but seemed to be trying not to let the state of her surroundings affect her judgement of their occupant.

Before either of them had the chance to say anything, Hagrid was pouring the boiling water into cups, and they could feel the distinct odour of tea wafting into their nostrils. Hagrid quickly set the cups in front of them, as well as one for himself. He also laid a tray with a big cake that looked rock hard on the centre of the table, which were soon joined by milk and sugar. He finally took a seat across from the two Slytherins and looked at Harry expectantly.

Daphne poured some milk into her cup, and slowly raised it to her lips, looking like she half expected it to poison her. She slowly took a sip, and actually seemed to find the beverage to her taste, for she took a much heartier second one.

Harry was taking this in out of the corner of her eye; he hoped she didn't decide to try the cake. He smiled at Hagrid. "How've you been coping with all the snow? It wasn't easy getting here." Harry said, berating himself slightly for the somewhat inane question, but he figured he had to break the ice somehow.

"This's nothin'. I've seen th'snow reach ter th'first storey windows - th'student's couldn' even get out fer Herbol'gy!" Hagrid said. "An' 'ow are yeh dealin' wi'school startin' again?"

Harry shrugged. "They seem to be trying to work us a lot harder than last term," he said. "But I still think being at Hogwarts is the best thing ever," he finished with a smile.

Daphne spoke for the first time. "Can't wait for the Slytherin-Ravenclaw match, myself," she chimed in. "It's about time Harry sees his first Quidditch match."

"Why weren't yeh at th'match with Gryffindor?" asked Hagrid bemusedly. Harry grimaced at the memory. "I was in the hospital wing," he said tersely. "Got hit with a really nasty prank."

Hagrid frowned. "Didn' ever hear abou' tha'. D'yeh know who did it?"

"The Weasley twins," he spat bitterly. He couldn't wait to get his little plan in action, but he still needed to talk with Alex Campbell again. Besides, he wasn't about to blab about it to more people than strictly needed. "But as for proving it..."

"I'm sure they didn't mean nothin' by it," Hagrid said. "They jus' like a bit o'mischief, the twins do."

"I was unconscious for almost a day, Hagrid!" Harry exclaimed, trying to keep his tone civil.

Hagrid looked surprised at this, his mouth open in a small ' _o_ ' surrounded by his scraggly beard. "Yer not pullin' my leg, are yeh?" he asked, but the tone indicated he already knew the answer to his own question.

Daphne interjected. "Our friend Ted had to drag him halfway across the school," she told Hagrid stiffly. "He was hit too, but if Harry hadn't pushed him out of the way he would have been hurt much worse."

Harry blinked at her words. He wasn't sure how happy he was that Daphne was telling Hagrid those things. They weren't exactly a secret, but it almost felt like she was trying to get Hagrid to pity him.

Hagrid looked at Harry with a mixture of shame and admiration. "Tha' was righ' brave o'yeh, Harry! Didn' think th'two o'them would do somethin' like tha'. Thought they on'y did harmless jokes, nothin' tha' dang'rous," he said, stroking his beard with a thoughtful look.

Harry relaxed, realizing that Daphne had been trying to appeal to Hagrid's admiration for bravery. The large man had probably been a Gryffindor, based on what he had told Harry when they first met.

"That's what they like most people to think, apparently," Harry replied, recalling his conversation with Alex Campbell.

"Don' yeh worry yer head abou' it, 'Arry. I'll 'ave a talk with'em, set them right," Hagrid said.

Harry frowned. "Please don't, Hagrid. They've probably gotten tons of lectures before, and it'll just make them want to target me again because I snitched. I can take care of myself." He made sure to let the groundskeeper know he wasn't going to take it lying down.

"Well, if yer sure…" Hagrid said in a hesitant tone.

Harry nodded. "I'm sure."

Awkwardness hung in the air for a few seconds. Hagrid was the first to try and clear it up. "So why 'aven't yeh been goin' ter th'other Quidditch games, 'Arry? They're righ' entertainin'. Watch most o'them from 'ere with my binocul'rs," he commented, bringing the conversation back to the more comfortable topic of Quidditch.

Harry was going to answer, but Daphne preempted him with a snort. "He doesn't know what he's missing, so he'd rather stay inside studying when it's just the other houses playing" she said. "I hope he changes his mind once he actually sees a match, because he's the best of all us first years on a broom. With him on the team next year, we'd be unbeatable."

Harry flushed at the praise from his friend, but tried not to let his embarrassment show. "You're really good too Daphne! It's true that I don't know much about what Quidditch is about yet, but Madam Hooch seems quite impressed with you. I'm sure you'll get into the team next year."

Daphne looked pleased at Harry's returning her compliment. "I'm certainly planning on trying out. I'm sure I could do a better job than Bletchley as Keeper. If only first years were allowed out brooms to practice," she said sulkily, and Harry feared she was about to go on her customary rant again.

"Yer dad was one o'the best in his day, 'Arry. Chaser fer Gryffindor, 'e was," Hagrid reminisced, cutting off any segues from Daphne, who raised her eyebrows at the newfound information.

Harry felt the same mixture of longing and bitterness he always did at the mention of his parents, especially coming from someone who had known them personally. He chose to push it down, and fortunately he didn't need to think of anything to say, as Daphne perked up at this information, looking extremely interested.

"Really?" she asked. "That must be where Harry gets his talent from. He'd never been on a broom before coming to Hogwarts, and he outflies everyone else in first year. And probably a lot of older years too. Or at least he would if the school brooms weren't so terrible," she finished in a grumble, frowning at her other favourite annoyance.

"I'll wait until I actually see a match to say for sure, but I told you I don't think I want to try out," Harry interjected. "Flint scares the hell out of me, and I don't know if I can be bothered with all the training. I do like to fly, but can't I just do it for myself?"

Daphne shrugged. "I can't force you, but it's going to be quite a loss for the team if I can't get you to change your mind," she said.

Harry felt embarrassed at the repeated praise, and wondered for a moment if 'House spirit', whatever that actually was, mandated that he try. Fortunately, Hagrid came to his rescue.

"She's righ', 'Arry. I'm sure yeh'd be a great player, but I can't blame yeh fer not wantin' ter be under Flint. Righ' rough, 'e is, and 'e don't have any sense o'fair play," he said, before remembering that Daphne was a big Slytherin fan. "Er, wha' I meant ter say is..." he started, trying to soften the blow, but Daphne actually laughed.

"Oh, it's true, our games are really horrible to watch. Nothing like the Harpies, anyway," she said, referring to her favourite professional quidditch team, the Holyhead Harpies. "That's why I'll be trying out for Keeper. I'm not built for ramming people around the pitch. But in our defence, it seems to work, and it wouldn't be so effective if the other teams knew what they were doing," she finished judiciously, looking quite smug.

"Maybe I'll try when Flint graduates," Harry said, hoping to put that particular issue to rest.

After a few seconds of silence, while the others digested this and slowly sipped their tea, Harry proceeded to direct the conversation away from Quidditch.

"You wouldn't happen to know why there is a three-headed dog in the prohibited third floor corridor, would you Hagrid?" Harry asked, judging unexpected, shocking frankness to be the best strategy with Hagrid. Daphne coughed as she choked on her tea, and Hagrid put his cup down a shade faster than he would have otherwise.

"'Ow d'yer know abou' Fluffy?! Student's aren't supposed ter go there!" Hagrid spluttered.

"Fluffy?!" said Harry and Daphne at the same time.

Hagrid chuckled. "'e's jus' a big pup if yeh know 'ow ter handle 'im righ'."

Harry blinked. "Right..." he trailed off uncertainly. Daphne glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eye. He spoke again to distract her from that statement. "We overheard some Gryffindor first years talking about it. Granger, Weasley and Longbottom. Do you know them?" Harry asked. Of course, Harry had also seen 'Fluffy' in the flesh, but there was no reason to tell Hagrid that, especially when what he had said was absolutely true: students weren't supposed to go down the third floor corridor.

Hagrid seemed less worried at those words. "They shoulda' known better than ter 'ave talked abou' tha'."

Daphne smirked, probably recalling what they had also said: Hagrid himself had talked about things he wasn't supposed to. "Well, they did," she said. "They said the dog was close to a trap door. Is it guarding something, Hagrid?" asked Daphne, trying to look innocent. It worked disturbingly well.

"Tha's none o'yer business. Th'less people tha' know th'Stone's here, the better," Hagrid said. At his words, Harry and Daphne's eyes widened, and the groundskeeper realized his tongue had slipped again. "Shouldn' 'ave said tha'. I should not 'ave said tha'."

"Said what?" Daphne asked, still looking innocent.

"They were saying the... whatever was in there was something to do with a man named Nicholas Flamel. Who is that, Hagrid? A friend of Dumbledore's?" Harry asked, doubtful that Hagrid would really think they hadn't paid any mind to his words, but thinking he might as well try his luck.

"I'm no' supposed ter talk abou' it. Dumbledore 'imself trusted me ter keep it quiet," Hagrid said with a chagrined look.

Harry shrugged the tiniest amount, and figured it would do no good to insist any more. "When did my father get onto the Gryffindor Quidditch team?" he asked, returning to the previous topic, one he would be sure both Hagrid and Daphne would appreciate. Even though Quidditch didn't particularly fill Harry himself with enthusiasm, he did want to hear about his father.

They spent a couple of hours listening to Hagrid's reminiscences, which eventually went beyond Quidditch to anecdotes of Harry's father and mother, both of whom Hagrid seemed to have known quite well in their time at school, especially his father. Towards the end, he even regaled Daphne with a couple of stories about her own father, Christian, from a slightly earlier time than Harry's parents.

Harry glanced at his watch, realizing how late it had gotten. "Well, Hagrid, it's been great talking to you, but I'm meeting someone for a study session in a few minutes, so I really need to get going," he announced.

Daphne tried to suppress a raised eyebrow, as this was news to her. Fortunately Hagrid didn't notice, for Harry really did not have time to explain, even though it was absolutely true.

After saying goodbye to Hagrid, promising to return shortly, Harry and Daphne quickly made their way back to the castle as the sun sunk behind the mountains, casting long shadows on the snowy ground.

"Study session?" Daphne asked once Hagrid had closed the door and they were safely out of earshot, her breath steaming in the cold air.

"It's actually true. I'm meeting Morag MacDougal from Ravenclaw in the library to study together," Harry explained.

Daphne's eyebrows shot up. "Indeed? I didn't know you were friends with her," she said. "Never seen you with her before."

"I only got to know her during the Christmas holidays," Harry said, not wanting to go into detail over the reasons they had bonded during that time.

"Fair enough," Daphne replied, but she still kept a slightly sly smile on her lips, which puzzled Harry.

She seemed content to let the subject drop, however. "I guess you were right about Hagrid, by the way," she said. "He's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he's not a big violent brute like I thought, either."

Harry nodded. "Thanks for keeping an open mind," he said, smiling.

A moment's silence lingered between the two, before Daphne changed the subject yet again. "So, your father, big Quidditch star… still set against playing?"

Harry sighed. "I told you I'll know for sure when I actually see a match..."

They walked across the grounds and back into the castle, caught up in their friendly bickering over the well trodden issue. On they went through the corridors until they reached the library, where Daphne insisted on accompanying Harry.

They found Morag waiting at a secluded table in a quiet corner of the library. Of course, pretty much the entire library was quiet on a late Sunday afternoon. Harry greeted Morag cheerfully. She seemed surprised to see Daphne with him, as Harry introduced the two. Daphne was quick to avoid any awkwardness, however.

"Well, I will leave you two alone," she said, turning around. "Nice to meet you Morag." She pulled Harry close to her by the sleeve of his robe and whispered, "You owe me for this Potter. We'll talk about Flamel later," with the same sly smile he had seen on her lips before and a wink.

Harry blushed, just realizing what had been on her mind, but by then Daphne was happily skipping away, waving, and sending a cheerful,"See you later Harry," at him over her shoulder.

Harry felt chagrined, both at Daphne's teasing and at the fact he had actually forgotten about Nicholas Flamel and 'Fluffy'. He didn't want Morag to catch on to that, though, so he greeted her cheerfully. "Hello Morag, sorry if I'm a bit late. I was having tea with Hagrid, and the time just flew past me."

"The groundskeeper?" she asked. "What's he like?" she asked.

Harry gave her a brief explanation of how Hagrid had been the one who had delivered his Hogwarts letter, not going into too much detail about how difficult the Dursleys had made that delivery. She seemed to guess at something behind it, judging by the concerned look in her dark blue eyes, but she didn't press the subject. Harry really appreciated her for that. He always felt like he didn't need to say things to her to show how he felt, maybe because they had so much in common, both being orphans.

Soon their conversation moved into the less awkward topic of the previous week's Transfiguration lessons, and Harry was happily demonstrating the latest animal transfiguration work, which involved changing a small animal into a larger object. They worked for hours until realizing that dinner at the Great Hall was almost over, and scrambled to get there on time to eat. Parting to reach their respective tables, Harry thought time just flew when he wasn't paying attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, favouriting, and following! Please, please review. I'd particularly like to know what worked for you and what didn't


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's chapter 9. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, favourited and followed. I hope you continue to enjoy the story. There's actually quite a bit of plot in this chapter, so brace yourselves!

_But pleasures are like poppies spread,  
You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed;  
Or like the snow falls in the river,  
A moment white-then melts for ever;  
Or like the Borealis race,  
That flit ere you can point their place;  
Or like the Rainbow's lovely form  
Evanishing amid the storm._

_Robert Burns_

Harry plopped down next to Ted, who was talking to Daphne. The two had half-eaten pieces of pudding on their plates, and were laughing about something. Harry caught the words 'Weasley' and 'stink'. That was enough to know he didn't want to hear any more of their conversation while he was eating.

He helped himself to some delicious looking Cornish pasties, which had the advantage that he would be able to sneak them out of the table if he did not have time to finish. Given how late it had gotten, there was a good chance of that happening.

Daphne and Ted greeted him as he arrived. "Hey, Harry," the latter said. "Where have you been?"

Harry had his mouth full, so Daphne answered for him. "He was 'studying'," she said, making air quotes over the last word. Harry wanted to say something, but his full mouth did not let him.

Ted looked at Harry and then back to Daphne. "Not studying?" he asked, deadpan.

Daphne replied. "Nope, not studying, 'studying'." She laughed. "With his new Ravenclaw 'friend'."

Harry blushed and hurriedly swallowed. "It's not like that at all!" he protested. His friends just laughed.

"Who's the lucky girl?" Ted asked, surveying the Ravenclaw table.

"Auburn hair and Scottish, down at the bottom right," Daphne indicated, pointing with her chin in the general direction Morag was seated at. "Morag MacDougal."

"Ooh, nice going Harry," Ted laughed.

Harry blushed even more. "Guys, it's not like that! We're just friends," he said, but Daphne just winked at Ted. "Of course, of course, Harry. You're just 'friends'. Say no more, Ted." She and Ted laughed, and Harry, blushing even more, figured the more he protested, the more they would tease him. He turned his attention back to the food, as Daphne told Ted about dropping Harry off at his study session.

"What had you two been doing, anyway?" Ted asked. He himself had of course been copying Blaise's History of Magic essay.

"Visiting the groundskeeper," she explained.

"Why would you be doing that?" Ted, asked, surprised.

Harry realized to his chagrin he had not yet told Ted about his friendship with Hagrid. "I need to eat this stuff quickly. Can you two wait for me to finish? We need to talk anyway," he said, before turning back to the food and increasing his eating pace.

While Harry ate, Daphne and Ted talked about the classes for the upcoming week. The discussion seemed half-hearted, and Harry figured they were much more interested in what he was going to tell them afterwards, but they seemed to be content to wait for him to finish his meal.

Just before mealtime was over, Harry rose, sneaking an extra pasty under the folds of his robe. He quickly led his two friends out of the Great Hall. They started towards the dungeons in silence, but after a while Harry laid his hands on his two friends' shoulders and pulled them away from the familiar route and up a spiral staircase. They climbed it for a few floors, and were left feeling slightly dizzy by the time they left it. Looking around to make sure there was no one near, Harry pulled them into an unused classroom and magically locked the door.

Turning to face his friends, he spoke to them for the first time since they had left the Great Hall. "Okay, I guess I should bring you both up to speed on everything," Harry said, as his friends gave him curious looks and sat down facing him at one of the many dusty desks.

Remaining standing and pacing to and fro, Harry continued. "So Ted, I guess Daphne already told you all about what happened with Weasley, Granger, and Longbottom." At Ted's nod, Harry continued. "Did she also tell you that before Granger ran crying towards us, we..." Harry paused to phrase the matter delicately, though he knew Ted would see through his real meaning quite easily, " _happened_ to overhear them talking about the three-headed dog we saw on the third-floor corridor."

Ted raised his eyebrow at this. "Oh, wow, so I guess I wasn't the only one to come across it." He looked slightly downcast, like someone had just invaded his treehouse. Harry smiled.

"Well, it's not _that_ hard to discover, you just need to have a death wish," he said, staring pointedly at his friend and grinning. Ted chuckled and brightened up, and Harry continued. "I don't know how they found out about the dog, but they talked to Hagrid about it. They probably figured he was the kind to know everything about three-headed dogs."

Ted and Daphne snorted at this. Harry continued. "Hagrid seems to have blabbed to them that the dog was guarding something, and that something was between Dumbledore and someone called Nicholas Flamel."

Ted's ears perked up at this and he looked between Harry and Daphne. Harry wondered if Ted knew who that was, but Ted seemed content to wait until Harry was finished, so he continued. "They were trying to find out who that was. That's why they were arguing to begin with."

"Why did they care?" Ted asked. "It's not like it's any of their business."

Harry's eyes widened, remembering a piece of the conversation he had not paid much attention to at the time. "They thought Snape wanted to steal whatever it was."

"What?" Ted sputtered. "Why would they think that?"

Daphne shrugged. "They're Gryffindors, they probably just hate Snape anyway," she said. "They probably saw him close by and made the whole thing up."

Harry wasn't sure what to think. Would the Gryffindors really be the type to make a mare's nest out of something so circumstantial? It didn't help that he still didn't know what to make of his Head of House, mostly because the Potions master still seemed keen on pretending that Harry didn't exist, and was certainly not a member of his House.

"Anyway, after the whole fiasco with Weasley, me and Daphne were talking about what they had been saying. I'd forgotten to tell you about this, because at the time I didn't really pay a lot of attention to it, but when me and Granger got our Potions textbooks mixed up, I found a sheet of paper in the middle of hers. It had the words 'Nicholas Flamel' on it. I'd never heard that name before, so I didn't think it was anything important."

Ted once again looked like he was itching to say something, but still thought it better to wait, as Harry was clearly not finished. "So, seeing as they had heard about him from Hagrid, I told Daphne we should go and talk to him ourselves." Harry paused here, uneasy about what he was going to say. "He was the one who delivered my Hogwarts letter. Told me I was a wizard. I sort of avoided him last term. People in Slytherin didn't seem to think much of him," Harry said, his temporary failure at being loyal to a friend burning inside him.

Daphne had the decency to look embarrassed at this, while Ted just looked more melancholy and wistful than usual. Neither said a word, though, so Harry went on.

"But he sent me a Christmas present, so I decided to go talk to him during Christmas holidays. Made friends with him again." After a pause, he continued." So me and Daphne went to visit him this afternoon. You were working, Ted," Harry added apologetically.

Ted raised his eyebrows. "I would have still gone with you, you know," he said quietly.

"Well, I'm sorry, I just..." Harry struggled. "It would have taken too long to explain, and I guess I didn't think you'd like to come. It was hard enough to convince Daphne," he added by way of excuse. "I'm sorry, Ted. I shouldn't have assumed."

Ted nodded at this, but still looked put out.

"I'll let you know the next time," Harry said, eliciting a slightly cheerier nod from the taller boy. "Anyway, we talked a bit about Quidditch, and my parents; apparently my dad used to be a Chaser for Gryffindor," he added. Ted smiled sadly, and Harry continued, trying to not dwell on that. "And then I asked him if he knew anything about why there was a three-headed dog in the third floor corridor. Apparently that _thing_ is named Fluffy!"

Ted guffawed. "Certainly looks the part," he joked, eliciting a snicker from Daphne.

"Yeah, I don't know what he was thinking at all." Harry shook his head. "Anyway, we brought up what we heard from Weasley and Granger, and he blabbed that 'Fluffy' was guarding 'the stone'. Now I don't know..."

Ted's expression changed from his normal melancholy smile to excited in less than a second, and he jumped up from his seat, facing Harry excitedly. "'The stone'? Are you sure that's what he said?" he asked eagerly.

"Yep, he said it was safe," Harry answered. Daphne nodded in confirmation.

"Do you know what that means? You don't know who Nicholas Flamel is, do you?" Ted said, looking between Harry and Daphne, though lingering on the latter. He clearly didn't expect Harry to know, which given he was raised as a muggle, Harry thought was fair enough.

"I know I've heard the name before," said Daphne defensively, "but I just can't put my finger on where."

"Nicholas Flamel is a famous alchemist. Lives quite close to my house in Devon!" Ted exclaimed. "He's the only person who's made a Philosopher's Stone! Do you even _know_ what that _is_?"

Harry still had no clue, but clearly this meant something to Daphne. "A Philosopher's Stone? No wonder they got a three-headed dog to guard it!" She turned to Harry. "A Philosopher's Stone can turn lead into gold," she explained.

Harry's eyes widened at the revelation. Ted finished Daphne's explanation. "It also lets you make the Elixir of Life, which makes you immortal! Or rather will stop you from dying," he elaborated.

Harry's jaw dropped in turn. Immortality and wealth. Everything a man could want. It never ceased to amaze him what magic could do! He wondered what exactly was required to create a Philosopher's Stone. It had to be incredibly hard, or else more people would have done it. Was alchemy related to potions? Deep inside him, he understood the thief's braving the danger of robbing Gringotts to try to get his hands on it. He knew it was wrong, but a part of him wanted to face Fluffy and do the same thing. While he was better than that, he made a mental note to read up on alchemy in the future .

Of course, while the Stone could make someone immortal and rich, it couldn't bring their loved ones back. He still wanted the Resurrection Stone more; the only problem was that he didn't know whether it actually existed, or if it was just a story. The Philosopher's Stone was there in the same castle with him.

"What's it doing in Hogwarts anyway?" was the first thing Harry managed to ask, waving his other thoughts aside.

Ted shrugged. "I don't know. Dumbledore did work with Flamel, though. The two are supposed to be quite close. So he probably just offered to keep it safe here."

"But why now?" Daphne interjected. "Dumbledore mentioned the third floor corridor was forbidden, but that was starting this year. I don't think it was there before."

Ted nodded, and Harry suddenly remembered something. "Ted, do you know what this Stone is supposed to look like?" he asked. "Or at least, how big it is?"

Ted shook his head. "I have no idea. Not many people have seen it, I don't think. But it shouldn't be very large. Why?"

Now it was Harry's turn to have to restrain his excitement. "When Hagrid took me shopping for my school things in Diagon Alley, we went to Gringotts first. After we went to my vault, Hagrid collected something else from another one. He called it the 'You-Know-What'! It was just a grubby little package! Do you think that could have been the Philosopher's Stone?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Bloody hell, Harry, it probably was," answered Ted. "That seems a bit dangerous, giving it to Hagrid to carry. I mean," he hastily continued, noticing Harry's frown, "it just seems like he could get attacked really easily."

"It's actually quite clever, if you think about it," Daphne disagreed. "No one would expect Hagrid to be put in charge of something like that. They'd expect Dumbledore to collect it himself! That way, no one knows it's been taken. Especially since Hagrid had the perfect reason to be there..."

"Showing me to my vault," Harry finished, looking thoughtful. It was actually quite clever of Dumbledore, if indeed they were right in their speculation. "Bloody hell!" he tacked on lamely.

"Can you imagine having that at Hogwarts? That's got to attract all kinds of dark wizards bent on stealing it," Daphne said, frowning.

Ted shrugged. "Even if they could get into Hogwarts to begin with, I imagine there's more than a dog guarding it. And that's not even taking Dumbledore into account. He's the only wizard the Dark Lord ever feared," he said, earning a shifty glance from Daphne at his chosen appellation for Voldemort. "I'm sure he could handle a common thief."

Daphne blinked, seeming to remember. "Wasn't there a break-in at Gringott's just when we were starting school?" she asked. The three of them looked at each other.

"Yeah, there was something in the _Prophet_ , wasn't there," Ted said. "I think I remember you reading it."

Harry blinked. He didn't remember any of this, but he supposed he hadn't been paying much attention to things like that at the beginning of the school year, being so overwhelmed by how amazing magic and Hogwarts were.

"Yeah, I remember now. Too bad I threw the paper out, but how was I supposed to know we were going to want to read it months after," she said, frowning.

"Oh, don't worry, the library has all the back issues archived," Ted said.

Harry looked at his watch. There was just enough time to get to the library and search for the article. The three of them looked at each other again, and in silent agreement, headed towards the door. It wasn't like they had anything better to do anyway.

Quickly cancelling the locking charm, they left the disused classroom and walked at a quick pace towards the library, though without actually running. It wouldn't do to get caught by Filch. Despite not running, the quick pace was enough to leave them slightly out of breath by the time they arrived at the library.

Madam Pince received them with a raised eyebrow and a frown. Clearly, she was not expecting First Years to arrive at such a late hour. "What can I do for you?" she asked sourly, as if resenting having them disturb her routine.

"Can you tell us where back copies of the _Daily Prophet_ are archived, please, Madam Pince?" Daphne asked in the tamest tone Harry had ever heard from her, even when addressing Snape.

Madam Pince blinked in surprise, but finding nothing wrong with such a request, simply replied, "They're two book cases back to the left. Ordered by date, the years should all be clearly marked."

"Thank you, ma'am," Daphne replied, and they shuffled silently in the direction the librarian had indicated. Once they arrived at the shelves Madam Pince had indicated, Harry and Ted picked up the September and October cases and laid them on a nearby table. The three Slytherins were soon busy sorting through the old copies, trying to find any news of a Gringotts break-in.

After rifling through what seemed like a mountain of newspapers, Harry shouted "Here!" before being silenced by a curt glance from his two friends. They did not want Madam Pince to kick them out at such a critical time!

"Sorry," Harry whispered, before laying out a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ on the table in front of them. He pointed at the relevant portion, which read:

_GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST_

_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown._

_Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day._

_"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

When they had finished reading the short article, Harry looked at his friends with excitement on his face. "That break-in, that was my birthday!" Harry said, barely managing to keep his voice at the low volume appropriate to the library. "I was there that day! If we had been only a few hours later, the thief would have got there before us. I'm sure it must have been the same vault!"

"Then it was really close!" Daphne said, looking around to make sure no one overheard them.

"You realize what that means?" Ted asked quietly. "Whoever is out to get that Stone is good enough to break into Gringotts. It's not a common thief at all!"

"I remember Hagrid telling me there were dragons guarding some of the vaults. I didn't see any around that one, though," Harry told them.

"There's a lot worse than dragons. Gringotts vaults are protected by very complicated magic, both wizard and the goblins' own. I wouldn't like for whoever did that to try to get into Hogwarts," Ted said grimly.

Daphne glanced at her watch and started to collect the spread out newspapers, putting them back in their filing boxes. "No, that really doesn't sound good. It does mean that Granger's idea that Snape is trying to steal it is nonsense, though. Not that I didn't think that already," she said, grinning at that last sentence. "If he wanted to steal it, he would just have waited until it got to Hogwarts, where he could get to it much more easily. He wouldn't be daft enough to try to rob Gringotts."

With everyone having pitched in, following Daphne's example, all the newspapers were safely tucked back into their cases. Daphne got up, insisting on carrying one of the boxes this time, and Harry followed her with the other.

"I didn't think Snape was out to steal it either," Harry whispered, "but I'd like to know what gave Granger and Weasley that idea. I mean, I'm not surprised Weasley would think some nonsense like that," Harry went on as he stashed the cases safely in their place. "But Granger is supposed to be clever."

Ted grinned. "She's very...bookish," he said, "but doesn't seem to have that much common sense if you ask me. Besides, she's a Gryffindor," he shrugged, "of course she's going to hate Snape, especially with how he keeps chewing her out in class."

They headed out of the library, just as Madam Pince was rising out of her seat to round up any students who didn't realize it was closing time. They walked silently as they left, thinking about the treasure being guarded by Fluffy.

"Do you want to see 'Fluffy'?" Ted asked Daphne, making air quotes at the name.

She raised her eyebrows. "See the three-headed dog? Are you trying to get me eaten, Nott?" she asked.

Ted guffawed. "Hardly, Harry and I have seen him. He's not that dangerous as long as you're quick."

"Not _that_ dangerous," Daphne repeated. "Doesn't sound very reassuring to me," she said, sounding doubtful.

"I thought Ted was crazy too, but it doesn't seem to be fast as long as you stay out of its reach." Harry paused, looking around. "Besides, we won't get caught. I've got an invisibility cloak," Harry revealed, anticipating Daphne's next objection.

"An invisibility cloak," she whispered. "Where did you get that?"

"Christmas present," was all Harry said by way of explanation. He wasn't prepared to go into more detail than necessary about the cloak's origins with Daphne. He liked her, but still didn't know if he could trust her with such important secrets.

"Christmas present?" Daphne asked. "All I got was bloody socks."

Harry looked at her, wondering for a moment if she was serious, but her grin gave it away. Grinning as well, Harry said, "Never mind how I got it. Meet me in the common room at," he looked at his watch, "eleven? Ted, can you make it? I need your help to find the place again."

Ted nodded. "You know I'd never pass up on a chance for a night time walk," he said, grinning.

"Well, alright," said Daphne, "but if I get eaten, I'm coming back to haunt you two for the rest of your lives," she said.

Ted laughed, though Harry could only manage a grin. That was a rather morbid thought. They walked the rest of the way to the Slytherin common room in subdued silence. The castle's hallways were darkening despite the multitude of torches set to give them light, and their shadows cast long and grotesque forms as they walked.

" _Shibboleth_ ," whispered Harry as they reached the common room entrance. Daphne soon headed to her own dorm, as Harry hissed "Eleven," after her. Harry and Ted took a seat in a couple of empty chairs in a corner of the room.

"Did you not tell me you were friends with Hagrid because you were afraid I was going to go all prejudiced on you?" Ted ask in what was almost a whisper. He looked slightly dejected.

Harry looked chagrined, but faced his friend squarely. "Look, I only told Daphne because we heard Granger and Weasley talking about it. And I only went to visit him after Christmas anyway, when you weren't here. After that, I kind of forgot about it, what with all that happened when term started again," Harry said pointedly, hinting at what Ted had revealed to him about his father's activities, but not wanting to mention that at all in the confines of the common room. "I just didn't want to raise any waves before," he went on. "You know how hard it is to know how people really feel. Even Daphne thought Hagrid was a dumb vicious brute of a half-giant, she just was a bit braver than everyone else in letting me bring her over to see for herself."

Ted nodded, seeming less annoyed. "Fair enough. I suppose I didn't think very much of Hagrid, to be honest. People are afraid of giants, and with good reason. They killed many people in the war with the Dark Lord," Ted whispered. "But I'll take your word on Hagrid," he finished with his usual melancholy smile.

"You can come along next time and see for yourself as well. He doesn't seem to like Slytherins, though, seemed really guarded with Daphne. I think he was a Gryffindor. He did seem to warm up quickly to her though, so just don't act like a stereotypical Slytherin and you'll be fine," Harry said with a chuckle.

"I'm hardly the stereotypical Slytherin," Ted pointed out. "It was all I could do to convince the Hat to put me here and not in Ravenclaw," he said with a whisper, to which Harry nodded.

"I remember our talk on the train. I figured something like that when your Sorting took a while. Your father?" Harry asked, matching Ted's whisper.

Ted nodded, and Harry didn't ask anything else. Ted gave a small, sad smile, grateful for Harry's discretion. He got up and headed towards the dorms. Harry followed him.

* * *

A few hours later, Harry and Ted made their way back from their dorms to the common room. It was after curfew, but a few scattered groups of students were still milling around. This included a couple of sixth or seventh years who were being very affectionate in a secluded corner and making everyone around them feel very awkward indeed.

The two first years took their seats in an area that was also out of the way, and brought out the History of Magic notes they had taken the precaution to bring as a ruse. No one would be likely to pry at their conversation when they were discussing seventeenth century goblin rebellions. After a few minutes, Daphne joined them, just as the couple had tapered off their affections to go to bed.

She took a seat next to them in silence, and having quickly grasped what they were doing, started asking questions about things she vaguely remembered from Binns' class.

After some time, the common room emptied completely, with one the last students but them to leave calling out to them, "You picked the wrong time of day to study History of Magic, firsties. You'll be asleep in no time," which elicited a chuckle from the friend at his side.

Grinning between themselves, the three first years kept the ruse up for a while more, to make sure that no one would come back for something they'd forgotten.

After a few minutes of no one returning, the common room having gone absolutely quiet, the three first years put away their 'study' notes and rose. Harry withdrew his invisibility cloak from within his robes and held it out to Daphne, who had not seen it yet.

She took it gently from Harry's hands and laid it over her right arm, which immediately vanished from sight. "Wow," she said, her voice holding barely contained excitement, though she kept it back from rising. It would not do to have anyone return to check on the noise.

Grinning bashfully, Harry took the cloak back. "Pretty awesome, isn't it?" he asked. "Come on, let's hurry. Remember we've got classes tomorrow," Harry said, and raised the cloak high above their heads.

Daphne and Ted huddled closer to him, and he let the cloak fall on them, making the trio completely invisible. They started walking towards the door, but soon had to stop. They had failed to match their paces and got entangled in each other.

Laughing nervously, they set off again, and this time they managed to coordinate. They approached the common room door and exited through it. If anyone had been there to see it, it would have looked to open and close by itself.

Harry let Ted walk slightly ahead of himself and Daphne, since he was the one who knew the castle better, especially at night time. Indeed, the taller boy guided them in silence, displaying an uncanny ability to maintain direction in the darkness, going up stairways and along dimly lit corridors, where the torches had been put out and only the moonlight shining through the windows gave some light to their path.

Soon they were on the third floor, fast approaching the forbidden corridor. They had not said a word since they left the common room, though they occasionally exchanged nervous glances. Being invisible and under the cloak's physical weight made the entire experience of sneaking out slightly claustrophobic, which added to their nervousness and excitement. Even Ted, who was used to wandering around after hours, seemed more on edge than usual. It was odd, come to think of it, since being invisible meant they were less likely to be caught, but Harry supposed it was the restriction on their movements from needing to move together under a cloak that produced that feeling.

Harry remembered venturing down the same corridor they were walking, when Ted had shown him Fluffy the first time. After turning a corner, they could see the door behind which Harry knew the dog lived. They started down the corridor, but after a second, Ted abruptly stopped.

"What the..." Daphne whispered, but Ted raised a finger to his lips imperiously, turning slightly to impress on his friends he was serious. When Harry and Daphne both looked at him expectantly, but not saying a word, he nodded and pointed towards the end of the corridor.

Harry could not see anything at first, but he squinted, trying to force his eyes to adapt to the darkness. After a few seconds, he made out a dark shadow, hovering near the place where a side passage met the forbidden corridor. It moved in fits and starts, stopping for a few seconds before advancing a few feet, stopping again, stepping sideways, and stepping back again.

"What is it?" Harry whispered, trying to keep his voice as silent as possible. Whatever was down the corridor, it gave no sign of having heard Harry speak.

Ted shrugged. "Looks like someone sneaking," he replied, somehow keeping his voice even lower than Harry's had been.

"Let's get closer," Daphne said, curiosity burning in her eyes. Harry thought she had some disturbingly Gryffindor-ish tendencies sometimes. Still, he himself was curious as well. He looked towards Ted, whom he judged to be more of an expert in that kind of thing.

Ted twisted his mouth, pondering. Eventually he spoke in the same low whisper. "Alright, but careful. Move very slowly and make no noise," he warned.

They stepped forward very carefully. Coordinating such slow movements was amazingly hard to manage, but almost like magic, they managed to advance a couple dozen yards. The shadow at the end of the corridor had moved closer to the door, but had not moved to open it. As the distance between them diminished, they could see it was the form of a man. Almost as soon as he realized this, Harry felt a pain on his forehead, right where his scar was. It was not overwhelming, but he had to stop for a second to rub his temples. He managed to grab his friends to indicate his intention of stopping, so they were able to come to a coordinated halt.

"What's wrong?" Ted asked with a frown.

"My scar hurts," Harry replied. Daphne and Ted looked at him with concern, but with some effort, it seemed he was able to get the pain under control. He opened his eyes and looked at his friends, who then turned forward to inch ever closer to the man ahead, who in the meantime started to talk to himself. They could hear the man's voice—and it was clearly a man, not a woman—but they could not make out what he was saying, only that he was talking. It also seemed strangely familiar, though Harry couldn't quite figure out who it belonged to.

They looked at each other wondering what to do. Harry frowned, trying to think of where he knew that voice from. Ted took one step forward, and Harry and Daphne followed him. They didn't dare get too close, but curiosity drove them forward. Thinking back on their actions afterwards, they all agreed they had been quite reckless, but it seemed so important to find out who the mysterious man was.

Suddenly, the man lunged forward towards the door, and they stopped with drawn breaths wondering what he was going to do. He opened the door with a raised arm, probably magically. In the distance, Harry could see a massive form lurking within: Fluffy. The man took a step forward with his wand out, and Fluffy stirred. The man stopped for a moment, but took a step further.

Fluffy then sprang awake. They could see its form rise. The entire scene was surprisingly clear; their eyes had finally adjusted fully to the darkness. Two of Fluffy's heads stood at attention, as the other one lunged forward and caused the man to give out a scream of fright—a scream which arose a recognition in Harry. Surely it couldn't be...?

The man barely managed to dodge the first head, which growled at him in frustration. Meanwhile, the head from the opposite side attacked. It actually got the man by the edge of his robe, but he was able to roll away, accompanied by the sound of tearing fabrid, most likely leaving some of his robes in the dog's mouth, though it was too dark to tell. The man scampered backwards and just managed to lock the door behind him, preventing Fluffy's heads from following by a split second. Only moments after the man locked the door, a huge noise, that could only be made by a giant three-headed dog hitting wood, resounded through the corridor.

The man panicked, turning away from the door and ran back towards where he'd been lurking. As he did so, his face was towards them for a few moments until the man turned down the same side passage he had come from. As he passed in front of a window, the moon light shone on his face. It was Professor Quirrell.

Harry knew he wasn't imaginging things, because he heard Daphne swear under her breath and saw Ted's chin hang down in surprise. They faced each other.

"Was that...?" Ted asked, though he must have known the answer already. They all looked dumbfounded at the revelation.

Harry was about to answer, but Fluffy's continued attacking of the door, raging at being woken up and then denied prey, had garnered attention. They could hear voices approaching.

"Later," Ted whispered. "Let's get back as quickly as possible. But be quiet," he said, his eyes nervously darting around. The voices were coming from the way the first years had come from, but that seemed preferable than to risk meeting Quirrel down the side passage he had escaped to.

Ted led the way again. They were heading back the way they came, but being doubly careful not to make any noises. The voices they had heard were drawing closer, and the closer they drew, the more careful the three of them were.

Soon they started hugging the walls. The voices had stopped, but they could now hear footsteps, telling them that though the voices' owners had gone quiet, they were still on their way. Just before they rounded a corner, the footsteps became louder and Snape and Filch burst past them, running down the corridor towards the door holding Fluffy.

Ted had managed to press them even closer to the wall together, and only his quick actions had allowed them to avoid what would have been a disastrous collision with the two incoming adults. They pressed their bodies close to the wall, waiting until the adults, who thankfully didn't seem to notice anything amiss, were safely out of sight. Ominously, Snape did look backwards at where the trio was hiding, as if he knew they were there. But he couldn't have seen anything, right?

Snape didn't seem too bothered by it and hadn't slowed his pace down at all, and both he and the caretaker were soon out of sight. Looking at each other in relief, the three Slytherins broke into a trot, moving as fast as they could manage while keeping the cloak covering them.

They didn't meet anyone else during the nerve-wrecking journey down to the common room. Fortunately no one had suffered from insomnia and come back into the communal space, for if they had they would have seen the common room entrance move seemingly by itself. But no one was there, and they had no problem walking in under the cover of the cloak, only removing it after the entrance had closed and they'd had a good look around.

Out of breath from the run, Harry pocketed his cloak safely in an inside pocket of his robes, and then collapsed on a sofa. Ted and Daphne joined him, sitting on either side of Harry. They looked at each other in disbelief again.

"Quirrell," Harry said. "What was Quirrell doing there? Was he trying to steal the Stone?"

Ted blinked, looking quite perplexed. "I've no idea. I'd never suspect he'd do such a thing, though. He always seems too frightened of everything..." he trailed.

"He did look scared, though," Daphne replied. "Then again, a three-headed dog is pretty frightening. I'm glad we didn't get any closer, actually."

"Should we tell someone about him?" Harry asked, a frown of concern on his brow.

"Oh, yeah, we'll just go up to Snape and say 'We were going to the forbidden third floor corridor, breaking curfew under an invisibility cloak, and saw Quirrel trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone that we're not supposed to know about.' That would go down well," Daphne said sarcastically.

"If he is trying to steal it, someone needs to know," Harry insisted.

"He's not going to steal it. Didn't you see how he couldn't even get past the dog. And I bet there's more guarding the stone than just that dog," Daphne replied.

Ted had kept his silence during this exchange, but he finally spoke. "We could find a way to let Snape know without telling him ourselves—leave an anonymous note or something. I do think it's a bit important that a Hogwarts professor is trying to steal the Stone, but we don't actually know whether he's trying to do that. I think you only got that idea because you heard the Gryffindors saying they think Snape is trying to do it. For all we know, he doesn't even know the Stone is there, just that there's a three-headed dog guarding something. I mean, we were going there ourselves!" he argued.

Harry thought this over. "But Dumbledore would tell the Professors about it, wouldn't he? We saw Snape going there with Filch, they must have thought someone was stealing it!"

"Just because he told Snape, doesn't mean he told all the others. And Filch was probably just told to keep watch and report if anything happened," Ted replied. Harry looked like he was about to argue further, but Ted cut him short. "Look, we're tired and it's late. This probably isn't the best time to to talk about this. We should go to bed now, and we can talk about it later, okay?" he asked.

Harry nodded grudgingly. While he personally felt that they should tell someone about Quirrell's actions, his friends' objections had some force, especially what Daphne had pointed out: there was no good way to tell the teachers without incriminating themselves. He nodded at Ted. "You're right," he said, stifling a large yawn.

Ted gave him a small smile. "Daphne?" he asked, turning around to face the black haired girl.

She nodded as well. "Definitely," she said. "Thanks for showing me the dog, you two. Frightening beast. I wonder how they got it into that tiny room." she said, before disappearing towards the girls' dorm with a smile.

Harry looked at Ted, who just grinned. "Probably just shrunk him. Dumbledore was the Transfiguration professor here before being made Headmaster; he'd be able to do it easily."

"Oh," was all Harry could manage before he had to stifle another yawn. He headed towards the dorms, Ted following on his heels. "You really are very good at sneaking around, Ted. If it wasn't for you, Snape would have probably caught us," Harry said, turning back and grasping his friend's shoulder.

Ted shrugged. "That's why I know a lot of things I'm not supposed to know," he replied uneasily. Harry remembered their big conversation about his friend's father and let it drop. They quietly walked to their dorms.

Fortunately, everyone else was asleep. After changing very carefully so that they didn't make any noise, the two boys slipped into their respective beds.

Harry slept very poorly that night. He dreamt of a woman's screams and a flash of green, and when he woke up in the morning his sheets were messy and covered in sweat; he felt like he had run a marathon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was chapter 9! I hope you enjoyed it, especially the new actual plot developments! Concrit is strongly encouraged, but I appreciate every review, no matter how short! Thanks again to all reviewers, as well as those who just favourited and/or followed! If you haven't please do so, it really makes my day! I'd especially like to know what worked for you, and what didn't.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's chapter ten. I think this is the longest chapter I've written for this fic so far, so I hope you all enjoy it!

_Rule or be quiet. Don't lose yourself, giving  
What you do not have.  
What's worth the Caesar you might have been? Enjoy  
The little you are.  
The vile shack gifted you is more welcoming  
Than the palace owed._

_Ricardo Reis_

The next day, they only had time for the barest discussion of the night's events. Harry was extremely grumpy and edgy from the lack of sleep, but had come to the conclusion that keeping mum was the better idea, which was met with general agreement. Despite his wonder and slight resentment at Snape not liking him, Harry knew his Head of House was an extremely competent wizard, and if he was on the alert for potential thieves, the Stone should be safe. Besides, Harry did not think that Snape would pass on the opportunity to punish him for breaking curfew and going down the forbidden corridor, and in a happy coincidence, punish his friends as well.

The next few days went according to Harry's by now well established routine. He met up with Morag again, with whom he was developing a nice rapport. He spent most of his time with Ted and Daphne; the latter had become a closer friend after their nighttime adventure. Even though Harry was the catalyst for their friendship, she and Ted seemed to be becoming friends in their own right, which pleased Harry in no small amount. He appreciated harmony between his friends.

Soon the day dawned for the Slytherin-Ravenclaw Quidditch match. Harry was quite keen to see what the hype was all about, and Daphne's enthusiasm for the game was contagious. Sitting at breakfast in the Great Hall with Ted and Daphne on either side, he was subjected to a constant stream of predictions for the game, including an analysis of possible strategies that might be used by the Slytherin team, and the strengths and weaknesses of the Ravenclaw team. When breakfast was finished, they headed out to the Quidditch pitch, going early to find good seats. Daphne had managed to capture Ted and Blaise, who both walked next to her being treated to a dissection of the previous Ravenclaw match. Meanwhile, Harry had fallen back, smiling at his friend's enthusiasm, but feeling slightly lost as he hadn't actually seen a game played yet. He took to walking with Tracey, who had been following the group of first year Slytherins moving towards the pitch, but had not had much to say by way of comment.

Harry gave the brown haired girl a smile. "Hello Tracey. Not a big Quidditch fan?" he asked, wondering at her silence.

Tracey gave him a shy smile in return. "I'm not that into it, no," she replied. "Certainly nothing like Daphne there," she went on, pointing towards the black haired girl with her chin.

Harry grinned. "I don't think you'll find many people who are as Quidditch crazy as she is. She's obsessed with making me try out for the team next year," Harry explained.

"Oh yes, I share a dorm with her, remember," Tracey replied. "We've all heard about how stubborn you are." She paused, then added slyly. "You'd think she had some other motive for wanting you on the team."

Harry kept walking for a second without reaction before the full force of Tracey's statement hit him, upon which he flushed bright red.

Tracey laughed at Harry's embarrassment. "I just wanted to see your reaction," she said, sticking out her tongue at him. "To be honest it doesn't seem like that at all, she just really wants to have the best team possible, I think."

Harry gave a sigh of relief. He really didn't understand girls when they were being all... girly. "Does she also rant at you about what an injustice it is that first years aren't allowed their own brooms?"

Tracey laughed. "Yeah, we've heard that one a few times. Though I can kind of see her point; she's actually really good at flying. You're better, though," she added, blushing and looking down.

Harry flushed slightly at this. "Daphne thought so too. I guess I'll need to actually watch a game to know whether I'd want to or not, but I don't know. Flint scares me a bit," he confessed.

Tracey nodded, smiling. "Yeah, he doesn't seem that friendly, I certainly wouldn't want to have to take orders from him."

They were closing in on the rafters now, and they climbed the stairs, Daphne leading the way, until they finally reached a height she deemed acceptable for viewing the action. They took their seats along the gathering sea of green scarves. Here and there were students holding high banners displaying the Slytherin snake. Across the pitch from them, many Ravenclaw students had also turned up earlier. The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff stands were much emptier, only a few die-hards having bothered to show up early to save good seats.

Harry took his seat between Daphne and Tracey, while Ted sat next to Blaise in the row below them. Blaise and Daphne were hotly discussing the Ravenclaw team's possible strategies. Harry took the time to look around the pitch, taking in the scoring hoops at both ends and trying to gauge the distance between them. He wondered how fast one could fly from one end of the pitch to the other.

Ted looked up at him. "Excited yet?" he asked, a wry smile on his face, which betrayed that the taller boy was _not_ particularly excited himself.

Harry shrugged. "Hard to be excited for something you haven't seen yet, but I'm definitely curious," he answered.

"You haven't seen a Quidditch match?" Tracey asked, surprise evident in her voice.

"Remember I was in the hospital wing when we had the match against Gryffindor," Harry replied, trying not to let his displeasure at recalling the incident show up on his voice. "And I just wasn't ever curious enough to watch matches between the other teams. It's not like I could try for the team this year even if I wanted to..." he trailed.

Tracey nodded. "My dad has taken me to a couple of professional Quidditch games. He's a big Appleby Arrows fan. I'm not hugely into Quidditch, but it's nice to watch the odd game once in a while, even if it's just for the atmosphere. Even here it's really amazing to watch our entire house come together for this, though all the other houses always root against us," she said.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, we're not even all here yet and it already feels pretty impressive. Is it always like this?" he asked.

"It was even better when we played Gryffindor. It's such a shame you missed that. Our rivalry with them just made it much more intense!"

Harry nodded, but as there was nothing he could do about that, he wouldn't worry about it. They spent the time until the game actually started listening in to the rest of Daphne's enthusiastic predictions, punctuated by Blaise's opinions and an occasional interjection by Ted or Tracey, with Harry asking a question once in a while.

The stands kept getting more populated, especially the sections allocated for Ravenclaw and Slytherin; the sections for Gryffindor and Hufflepuff were more vacant, but on Harry's estimate probably more than half of those Houses had still turned up. To the annoyance of the gathered Slytherin first years, the other two Houses seemed to overwhelmingly support Ravenclaw.

"I wish I could say it's just because we're leading and they want us to lose so that they would still have a chance to win the Cup, but..." said Daphne, letting the sentence unfinished because little more needed to be said.

The players finally made their entrance into the pitch, heralded by a Gryffindor boy with dreadlocks who was apparently doing the commentary from a raised stand, his voice magically projected to all spectators. He announced the names of the members of Ravenclaw team, and then those of Slytherin.

The Slytherin captain Marcus Flint looked as threatening as ever to Harry. There were rumours that there was a troll somewhere in his family tree. Having seen a troll on Halloween, Harry didn't know how that could be possible, but he would rather not dwell on that too much. Flint's demeanour certainly didn't help matters.

After the release of the small golden ball Harry had learned was called the Snitch, and the two cannon balls called Bludgers, Madam Hooch made the two team captains shake hands and then threw the large ball called the Quaffle up. Harry cheered on cue when one of the Slytherin Chasers grabbed it and, after violently shoving the nearest Ravenclaw aside, flew towards the goal guarded by the Ravenclaw Keeper. The indignant commentary from the Gryffindor commentator, whom Harry learned from Ted was called Lee Jordan and extremely biased against Slytherin, bellowed throughout the pitch as the Slytherin chaser progressed towards goal, followed by the other Chasers.

When that play led to a goal, the Slytherin stands erupted into even louder cheers, most of them rising from their seats. Slytherin gained an advantage fairly early on, thanks in part to what was borderline legal playing according to Daphne, who was keeping up a constant commentary which was much more even handed than Jordan's; some of the advantage, though, was simply because the Slytherin team was just plain better than the Ravenclaw one.

Harry knew that Seekers were supposed to try to capture the Golden Snitch, thereby earning a hundred and fifty points and winning the game. He thought that kind of made the rest of the game just window dressing for the Seekers, but didn't voice his opinion. He didn't know whether it was an illusion, but he thought he had seen a flash of gold more than once. There was no way to alert Terence Higgs, their Seeker, though. He did point this out to his friends, who couldn't confirm it either way, though Daphne looked impressed, which Harry found rather foreboding. He was never going to hear the end of her cajoling him to try out now.

Finally, when their house was ahead by 110-40, Higgs saw the Snitch. The Ravenclaw seeker was fast in his pursuit, but Higgs was better and seemed to have a faster broom as well. The game was soon over, Slytherin having won by 260-40, trouncing Ravenclaw and almost guaranteeing their victory on the Quidditch Cup. The Slytherins marched to their dorms in high spirits, though their cheer couldn't drown out the boos from the rest of the Houses. More than a few of Harry's older housemates gave the other houses' stands the two finger salute, which Harry found quite amusing.

"So, what did you think of Quidditch," asked Daphne, recapturing Harry and his friends' attention.

Harry shrugged. He didn't want to say anything that would commit him to trying out. "To answer what you really want to know, I'll consider trying out, but I'm not making any promises."

Daphne punched him in the arm and laughed. "Prat," she said. After a pause, she added. "That's good to know, though, but I'm actually interested in what you thought.

"It was interesting, but I don't think you'll ever turn me into a rabid fan," he said with a grin.

They walked back to their common room in gentle banter. Once there, they were met by a party celebrating the team's victory, which Harry found surprisingly fun. Hogwarts was awesome.

* * *

The morning of the following week's Saturday, after breakfast, Harry and Tracey were walking towards the library. Harry felt he had not spent as much time as he perhaps could have with her. She had always been really nice to him, though, and Harry was happy to help her, as he enjoyed spending time with her anyway.

They were going to study Transfiguration, which was still just as much of a weak spot for Tracey as it was a strength for Harry. His aptitude did not come without effort; it was the result of a lot of practice. McGonagall had started the year by warning them how complex her class was, and she had not been wrong. The odd thing was that while objectively the magic was more complicated, it always came to him easier than Charms or Potions did. Not that he had a Neville Longbottom level of trouble, but he just was not a natural in those branches of magic like he was with Transfiguration.

Tracey, on the other hand, did well in most classes, but seemed to really struggle with McGonagall's subject. Harry had helped her earlier in the year in a more focused manner, but after that they just never managed to find the time. Recently, Harry had learned about Tracey's renewed difficulties through Daphne, who seemed to be her best friend among the Slytherin girls. Their mutual friendship had not yet translated into Tracey being in Harry's inner circle of friends, but he liked the somewhat-mousy girl nonetheless. And while he did enjoy tutoring her, he did not lose sight of the fact that she would owe him a favour for the time and effort he put into helping her.

"So what would you like to cover?" Harry asked Tracey, breaking the silence as they approached the library.

Tracey looked at Harry with a slightly bashful smile, and replied, "Well, I think I've got the hang of the inanimate object transfigurations we covered earlier, but transfiguring animals into objects is still really tricky for me. I can usually turn a beetle into a button, but even then the wing marks are still on it."

Harry nodded. "Did you bring a beetle?" he asked with a grin.

Tracey opened her bag to revel a small wooden case. "In here," she said. "I'm not that dim."

Harry briefly wondered if she was upset by him asking, but her smile gave the lie to that. Keeping the case in her hand, she walked beside Harry through the doors of the library. Giving a polite nod to Madam Pince, they walked past her desk towards the secluded table Harry generally favoured. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Hermione Granger poring over some dusty tomes and wondered if she ever left the library during its opening hours. Then again, he himself had acquired a bit of a reputation among his house-mates for spending too much time in there. He couldn't help it: magic was so amazing that he always wanted to know more about it, though he liked to think he had not descended to Granger-like depths yet.

They finally reached their intended destination, and laid their things on the table before taking a seat next to each other. Tracey was reaching for the beetle case's opening, but Harry prevented her by grabbing her hand and pulling it away from the box. After a second, he realized he was holding a girl's hand and dropped it like it was on fire, looking away and feeling quite flustered.

"Leave the beetle for now," Harry said, slowly turning his head back towards Tracey, who looked slightly flushed, and was looking down in embarrassment. Happy to avoid any mention of what had just happened, Harry went on. "Not a lot of point in diving right into the magic without making sure you understand the principles. I know it's really boring, but with Transfiguration there's no way around it. It's not like Charms where you don't need to know anything about the theory, but if you just swish-and-flick and say the right words it works," Harry said, motioning with his wand as he spoke.

His exaggerated motions made Tracey giggle slightly. "Watch out or you'll put someone's eye out with a spell," she said, grinning at Harry.

Harry smiled back at Tracey. "Maybe I should be more careful," he said, laying his wand back down on the table. "But my point it, you really need to know what you're doing in Transfiguration."

He reached for his bag and retrieved the textbook, as well as a stack of parchment containing his copious Transfiguration notes. He opened the former to the first chapter covering animate-to-inanimate transfigurations. "Have you read this?" he asked Tracey, his demeanour more focused than before.

Tracey nodded. "I read the whole thing. I went through it last night again as well, because I knew we were going to work on it today. I think I understand most of it, but there's little things that I just don't get," she said, frustration mounting in her voice.

Harry nodded. "Well, let's look at those things, then!" he said with a smile. "Let's start with this first chapter..."

They spent a couple of hours going over the material. Harry tried to probe what Tracey's difficulties were, and after a while seemed to recognize a pattern in her trouble. She was thinking too much about the process of changing the object or animal in physical rather than magical terms. Consequently, the result often bore the marks of the original. He explained his conjecture to Tracey, who frowned in response.

"Hmm, I think you might be right, actually. I never realized that how I think about the change could affect how well I did things," she said, sounding frustrated but relieved. "Do you think that could have something to do with me spending a lot of time in the muggle world with my mother?" she asked warily, sounding like she was afraid of what the answer might be.

Harry shook his head. "Remember, I didn't know I was a wizard until last year, and I don't seem to have that problem," he said, trying to be modest about his Transfiguration prowess. "At least you've also been in the magical world." Harry thought there was something slightly odd in what Tracey had just said, but couldn't put his finger on it, so he decided to ignore it. "I think it's just how your mind is wired. Try not to think so much about that's happening."

Tracey nodded, though a frown still creased her brow.

"Let's get that beetle out now," Harry continued, wanting to test his theory.

Tracey reached for the case and opened its top. Underneath were small wooden bars which prevented the beetle from escaping, though they were wide enough that a wand could fit between them.

Harry reached for his wand again, and held it above the beetle. "Watch closely," he said, and proceeded to cast the spell to transform the beetle into a button, taking care to do it at a deliberately slow pace so that Tracey could notice all the required wand movements. Once he was done, he looked back at her. "Did you get all of that?" he asked.

Tracey nodded. "I think so."

"Good," Harry said, and then turned the button back into a beetle. "Do the wand movements now, but don't actually cast the spell, and don't worry about what you need to think. Just do the wand movements until you're sure you can do them without thinking. That way you can focus more on the magic when you're actually casting it."

Tracey nodded and, after grabbing her own wand, performed the movements a few times. Harry gazed intently at her simulacrum of casting, trying to detect any missteps. He only stopped a small mistake once, which he didn't think would have affected the end result much, but there was no point in letting bad habits go unchecked.

Finally, when he judged she had the movements down well enough, Harry said, "Good, I think you've got that. Now, try to cast it. Don't worry about _how_ it's supposed to happen, just do it. It might help you to focus if you imagine it happening in your head. Harry didn't think that was _needed_ to have the spell work, but figured it would boost her confidence in her success.

Tracey nodded and pulled the beetle's small wooden case towards her. She looked intently at it and, with a determined glint in her brown eyes, raised her wand and cast the spell.

Harry had been looking at her as she did it, trying to look encouraging while analysing the wand movements. He did not detect any mistakes in her technique, and indeed, when he looked down at the case, he found it no longer contained a beetle, but a perfectly transfigured button. He looked up to meet Tracey's smiling face, her eyes beaming at him with joy.

"It worked! I can't believe it, it actually worked perfectly. Thank you so much, Harry!" She said excitedly. Her voice rose perceptibly as she spoke those words, with the final sentence being hard enough to earn them a sharp 'shh' from Madam Pince, who was nowhere to be seen but seemed to be magically aware of where and when noise levels were getting too high.

She cringed at the reprimand, but still eyed Harry with a grateful look which made him slightly embarrassed.

Harry smiled softly at her. "You did it, I just gave you some pointers. I think you worry too much," he went on, hoping he wasn't widely off base. "You seem to be worried growing up in the muggle world affects how well you can do magic. That's just our Housemates' talking getting to you! I thought your dad was a wizard, anyway," he went on, finally connecting the dots as he spoke to what he had thought seemed off base earlier on.

Tracey blushed at his words, and looked slightly embarrassed, but didn't seem angry at him. Harry had hoped she remembered their talk earlier in the year and wouldn't think he would think any less of her for growing up in the muggle world.

"I sort of had one foot in each world growing up. My mum and dad just didn't work out. I don't think it was the magic issue that made their marriage not work, but it didn't anyway. So I sort of spent time with both of them, and although I went to muggle primary school, I got to meet other wizard kids who were children of dad's friends or family. I actually knew Daphne from before school. Her mother is dad's cousin," she said, speaking really quickly, her cheeks bright red.

Harry raised his eyebrows at this unexpected revelation, but managed to restrain his curiosity. He hadn't known closely anyone whose parents had split up, so he didn't really know how to handle the discussion, but he would try to be tactful. "I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have asked..." he trailed, twisting his mouth into an apologetic grimace. He didn't think he was being very eloquent, but he hoped Tracey wouldn't hold it against him.

She smiled at him. "Oh, don't worry about it. I don't even really remember them being together, and they seem to get along well. In fact," and here she grinned mischievously, "they've got back together for a few short times. I can't really figure them out sometimes, but I don't really have a problem with it." She paused for a while, then went on, while Harry was still wondering how to reply. "I really hadn't given a lot of thought to what house I'd be in at Hogwarts. Dad was a Ravenclaw, but I don't really take after him in that way, I'm not as studious or as smart," she said, looking slightly abashed.

"You shouldn't say that," Harry interjected lamely, but again he was a bit lost. He felt almost as lost as when he had talked about being an orphan with Morag, his childhood of emotional neglect having left him less prepared to deal with emotional exchanges than even the average eleven-year-old boy. Tracey seemed about to reply with a shrug, but suddenly a better retort occurred to him. "You were put into Slytherin, not Hufflepuff! The Hat may not have thought you were Ravenclaw bookish smart, but it must have thought you had cunning and resourcefulness," he said, hoping this hit the right note.

Tracey gave him a small smile in return. "That's nice of you, Harry. I suppose I must have been put here for a reason, and I suppose you're right that I do second guess myself most of the time. I don't really understand why the Hat thought I belonged here, to be honest," she said, her frown returning as she vented at Harry.

Harry raised his eyebrow in an exaggerated manner at this. "You think _you_ had a shocking Sorting," he said, smiling.

Tracey looked back at him and laughed quietly for a few seconds, looking down in slight embarrassment.

Harry went on. "Yet here I am. Honestly, I couldn't see myself as fitting better anywhere else, despite McGonagall probably thinking Gryffindor had some sort of claim on me. Do _you_ think you'd be better somewhere else? I can't really see you as a Hufflepuff," he said, hoping his tone conveyed the light-hearted teasing he meant it as.

Tracey actually looked up to face him and smiled. "No, I suppose you can't. You're right, it's my fault for obsessing about it so much. I don't even know why I do it; most people in Slytherin are really alright—in our year, at least. I guess what my dad told me about the houses has influenced me a bit. But he wasn't in Slytherin, so how would he know what it was like?!"

Harry smiled at her and nodded. "Yeah, look, you're doing fine." He paused for a second trying to choose the best words for what he was about to say. "Feel free to talk to me about things if you think it'll help you. I don't bite, honest," he finished.

Tracey actually blushed at this, which wasn't Harry's intention at all! He wondered if he would ever understand girls. Casting her eyes down at her hands, she said, "Thanks, Harry. That's really nice of you. I really appreciate you taking time to help me." She looked up at him and flashed him a grateful smile, before getting up. "I should go now. I promised mum I'd write her more often this term. See you later," she said, and took her leave down the library's many book cases before Harry could stop her or say anything in retort.

He blinked. He hoped he hadn't said anything too stupid, and going over his words and Tracey's responses, he didn't see anything that would have upset her. Deciding to attribute it all to the mysteries of the female mind, Harry glanced at his watch and realized he still had a bit of time left before lunch in which to do some of the research he had been putting off.

While the subject of the Philosopher's Stone had been dropped, he had certainly not forgotten about it. He was still quite keen in finding out more about what exactly was involved in alchemy. Rising, he headed towards the shelf where he knew the library catalogue to be located.

Once he obtained the magically updated folio, he flipped to the letter 'A' for 'Alchemy'. It didn't look like there a wealth of information on the subject, especially not as an introduction. It seemed a bit strange to have advanced books without introductory ones, but then again, was the introduction contained in something like Potions? In all fairness, Alchemy was not taught at Hogwarts, at least not that he knew about. There was no way he was going to ask Snape about anything unless he really had to, so he would have to find out for himself.

Shaking his head, he skipped a few books with were located in the restricted section, as he was never going to get a pass for that either. Most of the available books that did not look extremely advanced seemed to be only tangentially related to what Harry would really like to know. Finally, Harry located one book that seemed to be of the right level, but sufficiently focused on the topic, and that was not on the restricted section. His eyes scanned the page trying to find its current location. Harry cursed softly under his breath when he found that the book was already checked out. Wondering who had requested it, his eyes drifted further across the page, reading the words ' _Checked out by Hermione Granger (G)._ ' Of course.

Harry closed the catalogue with an angry snap and replaced it on the shelf where he had taken it from. Of course, of all the students in Hogwarts, it had to be her. He walked slowly towards his table. Did this mean she had figured out who Nicholas Flamel was? Quite possible, though she didn't seem to be doing anything with that information. Harry snorted to himself. All that commotion with Weasley for nothing. Harry stopped on his tracks and smiled. That memory gave him an idea.

Turning on his heels, he headed towards the table at which he had seen Granger earlier. Fortunately, she was still there. Her unmistakeable bushy hair hid her face as she pored over a book and made copious notes.

With a sigh, Harry steeled himself for what he was about to do, hoping he hadn't made a tragic miscalculation somewhere. He strode towards the table where the Gryffindor girl sat, moving as silently as he could. He stopped directly behind her, having been successful in his aim of remaining undetected.

After quickly glancing around to make sure no one was nearby to mess things up, he raised his hand to his mouth in a closed fist, and coughed with a soft 'Ahem' intended to get the attention of the girl sitting in front of him.

It worked better than Harry expected, as she jumped in her seat and, he was sure, would have shouted were they not in the library. She quickly turned around and faced him with a scowl. Upon seeing Harry, however, her scowl gave way to a confused look, though an undertone of annoyance at having had her study interrupted was still present on her features.

"Potter? What do you want?" she said curtly. "Where's your mopey friend or that harridan you had with you last time?"

Harry blinked at this. He didn't think Granger would have had it in her to try to insult his friends, though he actually just found the description amusing. "And good morning to you too," he said, remaining collected. "Nice weather we're having," he finished, now just taking the mick. After a pause, he added. "Daphne was helping you, you know. You could be a bit nicer when you talk about her."

Granger snorted, but seemed slightly less on edge. "Quite," she said. "And it was not at all that she saw a chance to curse a Gryffindor? Mind you, Weasley was being a twat and fully deserved what he got, but don't expect me to believe she did it out of the goodness of her heart."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Have you ever even spoken to Daphne? Gryffindors..." he scoffed. "Anyway, as eye opening as all that is, I'm really not here for a chat," he said. He had let himself get sidetracked and lost a bit of the surprise effect he had been relying on, and he didn't want to earn Granger's hostility needlessly.

She eyed him disapprovingly. "I figured, which is why I asked what you wanted," she retorted shortly. Trying to look as mild as possible, Harry replied, "According to the library catalogue, you have one book I want to read," he explained, trying to sound as nonchalant about it as he could. " _An Overview of Lesser Used Magics_ , I believe the title is. Do you think you'll be done with it soon?" he asked.

At the mention of books, Granger seemed to soften just the slightest bit, slumping down slightly in her chair and losing a bit of the tension on her body. "The library has a catalogue?" she asked, and raised both her hands to rub her eyes and face, as if she had overlooked something obvious.

Harry blinked. "Yes. You can just ask Madam Pince for it. It magically updates itself to tell you where each book is, as well. Much better than muggle libraries," he finished with one of those childlike grins which the existence of magic still elicited in him from time to time. He quickly smothered it, though, because he didn't want Granger to think he was mocking her.

"You mean all this time I've been walking around the library looking at book titles on the shelves and trying to guess if they'd help, when I could have just consulted a catalogue?" she asked in an almost anguished tone.

"You know Granger, sometimes a little common sense is worth a lot of book learning," Harry replied. He didn't want to anger her too much, but couldn't resist needling her a bit about it.

Granger frowned. "How would you know what a muggle library is like anyway?" she huffed.

"I'm surprised the whole school doesn't already know I was raised by my muggle relatives," Harry replied, happy to see the shock in Granger's face as he said it. He was actually not unhappy about people knowing that particular fact, as it went a long way to excusing a lot of social _faux pas. He_ _hadn't_ considered what muggleborns might think about it, though. He supposed Granger would not be the most popular person in Gryffindor, and therefore might not be privy to most of the rumours going around the school.

"Go on, you're having me on," she replied. "How did you end up in Slytherin, then?"

"Same way as everyone else, I imagine: the Hat sorted me," Harry replied dryly. "But to answer what you're really asking, I don't know. The Hat obviously thought it was the best fit for me." After a few seconds of awkward silence, Harry added, "Anyway, the book?"

Granger seemed to shake herself and replied, "Well, I picked that up for a bit of light reading a while ago, but I've been so busy I just haven't had time to open it, between revising for exams and researching..." she managed to stop herself from revealing what it was that she was researching, unaware of course that Harry already knew all about it, "...researching other things," she finished lamely. "I still want to read it, though," she continued. "Why do you want it anyway?"

Ignoring the last question, which Harry did not want to go into, he replied instead, "You're already revising for the exams?" he asked, actually worrying for a second about whether he should be doing that as well. Then he remembered who he was talking to, and went on. "Never mind that. I'll be really quick with that book. I just need to check something, I've no intention of reading it all, don't worry. Should be done with it in about a week," he said, thinking that that was on the upper range of how long he thought he'd take. He was getting to be a quick reader.

Granger looked torn. Harry wondered if even her who prided herself in being so intelligent was suffering from House prejudice, or if it was just something against him in particular. He still remembered the last time he had tried to talk to her in the library, though to be fair most of that commotion was Longbottom's fault. Finally, she managed to speak. "I don't know….what's to stop you from just keeping it for ages once I give it to you?"

Harry rolled his eyes again, which seemed to be a constant feature of his interactions with Gryffindors. "I thought you just wanted it for a bit of light reading anyway. What would it matter even if I kept it for longer?" He sighed. He was going to have to play his trump card. "If you give it to me, I'll tell you who Nicholas Flamel is," he said with a sly smile.

He certainly got the effect he hoped for. Grange's chin even hung open for a few seconds, before she realized she was gaping and shut it with a snap. "Nicholas Flamel? And why do you think I care about whoever that is?" she replied nervously.

Harry wasn't fooled for a minute, but of course, she didn't know how much he knew. "You can drop the act. When we got our Potions textbooks mixed up, you had a piece of paper in it with his name written on it," Harry replied, not having any intention of revealing he knew a lot more than that.

"What makes you think I don't know who he is, then?" Granger asked, looking even more shifty and nervous than before.

"If you did, why would you pretend you didn't know before? Anyway, call it Slytherin intuition if you want, but I've got the feeling you'd like to know. Am I right?" Harry replied, dangling the morsel of knowledge in front of her. She was so close to biting...

Granger sighed. "Well, alright," she said, still looking quite suspicious and unwilling. "I'll go to Gryffindor tower to bring the book down." After a pause where she scowled at Harry, she told him, "Don't even think about touching my things while I'm gone."

"I wouldn't dream of it," said Harry, trying to keep his nonchalant attitude, although he was pretty annoyed that she assumed he would do a thing like that. "I'll just be at my table over there," Harry said, pointing to the table where his school things still laid, scattered from his study session with Tracey. He started walking towards it to demonstrate how he had no intention of touching Granger's stuff.

She seemed to accept this, at least outwardly. With a curt nod at Harry, she was gone, walking out of the library in as quick a pace as she could manage without actually running. Harry rolled his eyes yet again, but decided to ignore it and continued back to his seat. Granger's trip gave him time to look at his second research project.

He opened his bag and retrieved a decent sized tome from it. Blaise had not been idle nor forgotten his promise, and Harry held in his hands the product of his request: _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_. Finally, he would be able to find out whether there was any truth to the claim that he was related to the Peverell's, and whether their association with the Tale of the Three Brothers had any substance behind it.

The book was bound in leather, riddled with many cracks and creases which underscored how old it was. Harry leaned back in his chair, propped his knees up against the table, rested the book against his legs and began flipping through it. Annoyingly, there was neither a table of contents nor an index, probably because the book was either too old or deliberately made to appear archaic. Whatever it was, it forced Harry to try to gauge from the title and number of the chapters whether there would be anything that interested him. He flipped the pages back and forth, looking for anything that seemed relevant to his search. He thought he was on the right track when he found a rather extensive discussion of families who were extinct in the male line. These families no longer had any descendants who carried the family name, but many of them were related to extant families through female descendants: their offspring, while still related, no longer carried the female's maiden name.

Harry was quite excited by this, as the Peverells certainly seemed to fit the bill. He scanned that extensive part of the book with more care, trying to find the name Peverell. One, two, three pages of unknown families went by, until he finally spotted it. Peverell. He was about to look for the beginning of the paragraph when -

"Ahem," a small, affected, girlish cough was heard. Granger. Startled, he pushed the table with his knees, causing it to screech slightly and earning a 'shh' from God knew where. He grabbed a piece of parchment from the table and stuffed in the book as a marker, before straightening himself and facing Granger, who was looking at it with distaste. She was holding a large, dusty tome.

"Ah, Granger," Harry said, regaining his composure as best as he could. "That was really quick."

"No it wasn't," she replied, sounding annoyed. "You were probably just distracted with your book of pureblood propaganda," she went on sharply.

Harry sighed. "I don't know whether it's propaganda or not because I just started reading it. At any rate, I'm just using it to research myself," he said. "I know you might not care much about that, but as an orphan who until a few months ago had no idea where he had come from, or even how his parents looked like or what they did, I think I'm allowed a little interest on my family's history, no matter how distant." He knew that perhaps he shouldn't divulge his interest on his genealogy so widely, but he was actually quite annoyed by Granger's assumptions about him; besides, he hadn't said anything about the Peverells, and the book was after all not from the library. "Even if the book did come from a pureblood supremacist, it doesn't mean it doesn't have any useful information on it. You have to be discerning about what you read. I'd've thought someone who reads as much as you do would understand that," he finished in a harsh whisper.

Granger looked slightly ashamed of herself. "I... I'm sorry Ha-Potter," she said, casting her eyes towards the floor. Harry frowned at the abortive attempt at familiarity, but decided to let it drop. Meanwhile, she went on. "I never thought of you like that."

She seemed intent on continuing, but Harry cut her off. "What, as a person?" he asked bitterly. She looked startled and abashed, but Harry raised his hand to prevent any more discussion. "Look, just drop it. Do you have the book?" he asked superfluously, for it was obvious she was holding it.

She snapped her mouth shut and handed the book to Harry with a dejected look. "I've checked it back in. You can go and check it out to take with you," she said in a barely audible whisper.

Harry took it from her hands and opened it to check whether it had really been checked back in, before laying it on the table with his things. Then he turned back to Granger and spoke in a quick whisper. He didn't want to prolong the conversation any more than necessary. "Nicholas Flamel is an alchemist who lives in Devon," he said, taking more pleasure than he probably should in adding that bit of useless information. "He's done some work with Dumbledore," he finished, leaving out any mention of the Philosopher's Stone. Let her find that out for herself if she wanted to.

Granger looked confused at his pronouncement. "An alchemist? That's it?" she asked. "What does an alchemist..." she stopped suddenly, and Harry could almost see the cogs turning in her brain. She turned around and mumbled "Goodbye, Potter," over her shoulder, and Harry had to conceal a smile. Let her entertain herself with that.

He now had to decide between reading the book he got from Granger and the one he had been reading when she arrived. After a few seconds of thought, he decided to continue with Blaise's book, as he already knew where to start with that. Taking the same position in his chair as he had before, he opened the book to the page he had bookmarked and looked for the beginning of the section on the Peverells, reading it carefully. He read through the few pages that mentioned them in a kind of frenzied rush, faster than he would have thought possible. If what he had previously learned was true, these people were family, even if they had been dead for centuries. For someone who had only known the degenerates Petunia and Dudley as blood family, it was a consuming drive to learn more.

The book did not have as much information as Harry would have liked it to have, but a few things were clear from it. According to its author, the Peverell family had indeed died out through lack of male descendants. They had also been notorious for performing many incredible magical feats and creating magical items. The three brothers, Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus had indeed existed, though no mention was made at all of any connection to the _Tale of the Three Brothers._ What was mentioned, however, was the intermarriage of their female offspring with other magical families: the Gaunts and the Potters!

Now Harry was excited. He flipped back to the beginning of the book to try to find any mention of these Gaunts. After a gruelling search, he found a reference to them in the discussion of the families of the founders of Hogwarts: Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. The book explained how all of the Founders' family names had died out, but most of them had left descendants who did not bear their name.

The Gaunts seemed to be one of these families, the only known extant descendants of Salazar Slytherin—at least at the time the book had been written. Their descent from Slytherin was obvious due to the abundance of Parselmouths in the family. Harry did not know what a Parselmouth was, but from what he could deduce from the text, it had been a magical gift possessed by Slytherin that was passed through his bloodline. The Gaunts had at some point also married a female descendant of Cadmus Peverell, the middle Peverell brother! Harry's heart beat faster in excitement at this discovery, and he proceeded jot it down quickly in his notes. Not only was Cadmus the brother who was associated with the Resurrection Stone, but these were people who in an extremely distant way were related to him, if they indeed still existed.

Meanwhile, the Potters were confirmed as descended in some manner from Ignotus Peverell, though the book was remarkably short on specifics. Still, the author seemed reasonably confident in his assertions, which Harry found encouraging.

After copying down the most important references as well as their page numbers, he spent some more time looking through the book in search of any further information, but the remainder held nothing of interest to his search. He would have to look up further details on his own. He would remind Ted to bring his grandfather's book, and also just ask him if he knew anything about any of these people.

Harry's stomach gave a groan of hunger. ' _Must be getting close to lunch time_ ', Harry thought, but he decided he would go towards the end and have a look at Granger's book instead. It wasn't like the food was going to run out: magic was awesome!

Lifting its extremely large cover, he pored over its contents. Even though this book looked even older than Blaise's genealogical tome, it did have a table of contents, which Harry found very odd. He didn't understand wizards, sometimes. Was there a spell to look for something in a book? If so, no one had told him about it, and he hadn't seen anyone do it either.

The presence of the table of contents meant he was capable of locating the section on alchemy fairly quickly. It seemed he had been right in his earlier speculations. Alchemy _was_ indeed mostly considered to fit into the subject of Potions, though it incorporated some elements from Transfiguration as well. Harry sighed. It didn't seem he would be getting rid of Snape any time soon, then. Well, at least he had some motivation to work harder at Potions, if nothing else.

He kept reading. There seemed to be many secondary uses of alchemy, but its main goal was summed up by a short paragraph:

" _The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal._

_There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight)."_

It did sound like Ted was absolutely right. Harry wondered what it would be like to live to six hundred and sixty five. When he was living with the Dursleys, he thought life couldn't go by quick enough until he would be able to get them out of his life. Days, month and years seemed to drag by. But now that he had magic, he just found something new and amazing almost every day, and being magical himself, even if he ran out of new things, he could make them. And with the Stone, he would never have to worry about money.

He sighed. He doubted he would ever be clever enough to make a Philosopher's Stone, but that didn't stop him from thinking about it. He shook himself and continued to read, finding out more about alchemy and its many contributions to what he came to know as Chemistry when he was in muggle school, back in the days when wizards and muggles still lived peaceably together. That made him wonder absently what exactly had happened to drive wizards into hiding, but the thought was quickly lost as others took its place. He definitely would be working a lot harder at Potions, he resolved. Maybe this was what Snape had meant at their first class when he said he could teach them how to stopper death, though how Snape would be able to teach that, he didn't know. _It's not like there's a second Philosopher's Stone made by Severus Snape_ , he thought with a grin.

His stomach gave another rumble, which made Harry look at his watch, only to realize it was actually three o'clock in the afternoon and he had completely missed lunch. He had been so excited by what he was discovering that he hadn't even given a thought to the time or his body's signals of hunger, even though they were becoming painfully evident now. After packing his things up, he hurriedly made his way down to the Slytherin dorms, where he hoped to find some sweets left over from Christmas to tide him over until dinner. He just knew Daphne would tease him forever for missing lunch because he was reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are. I keep meaning to make this story more faster paced, but the characters just refuse to do it and want to spend whole chapters developing themselves. I apologize to those who like more plot, but it is there, even if it only rumbles along.
> 
> It never made any sense to me the way Harry and Co. did their research in canon. They just seem to read through books at random without any rhyme or reason: their research for spells that would help breath under water in GoF is the worst offender for this, as surely that kind of information should be readily accessible. If anything, magic would make the creation and upkeep of a library catalogue easier, not harder. So here we have Hermione being confronted with it.
> 
> Anyway, massive thanks to all those who have been reading, following, favouriting and reviewing. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and leave a review. I'd particularly like to know what worked for you, and what didn't.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. Here's the next chapter of Out of the Depths. Thank you, as usual, to everyone who has reviewed. Be assured that your opinion is fully taken on board.

_Late August, given heavy rain and sun_   
_For a full week, the blackberries would ripen._   
_At first, just one, a glossy purple clot_   
_Among others, red, green, hard as a knot._   
_You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet_   
_Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it_   
_Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for_   
_Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger_   
_Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots_   
_Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots._   
_Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills_   
_We trekked and picked until the cans were full_   
_Until the tinkling bottom had been covered_   
_With green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned_   
_Like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered_   
_With thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard's._   
_We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre._   
_But when the bath was filled we found a fur,_   
_A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache._   
_The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush_   
_The fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour._   
_I always felt like crying. It wasn't fair_   
_That all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot._   
_Each year I hoped they'd keep, knew they would not._

_Seamus Heaney_

The weeks after the Quidditch game went by in a quick blur of increased homework. Harry's time to work on all the many extra curricular pies he had his fingers in started to become short, though he made a point of keeping up his regular extra study routine as much as he was able to. It was just as well, for the more time passed, the more Professor Quirrell seemed to fall apart. He looked paler and thinner every time they saw him; his stutter got worse and his classes had become barely coherent. At first, Harry thought it was only because of the increasing headaches he seemed to get every time he stepped into Quirrell's classroom, but while those obviously did nothing to help his understanding, his friends had exactly the same impression, including Morag in Ravenclaw, which meant the Professor's odd behaviour was not exclusive to his classes with Slytherin. Harry therefore valued his 'defence practices' with Ted all the more.

They had been forced to scale back on the practice of spells that were either more advanced or of more dubious nature, not because they didn't want to practice them, but because of how much time they actually needed to make sense of what Quirrell was teaching. While Harry was not Granger, he still had no intention of failing his end of year exam due to incompetent teaching. 

It was this determination to do well that kept him up one Saturday evening in the common room, studying. Daphne and Tracey were doing some mysterious girl thing in their dorm, and Ted was out brooding somewhere in the castle, caught up in one of his occasional fits of moodiness that drove him to seek solitude. Harry had worried the first few times this had happened, but soon had learned not to take his friend's mood swings personally. Sometimes he just needed to be alone, which Harry could understand. Ted wasn't even breaking curfew this time. While the nights were shortening, daylight was still scarce in the evenings, and many students retired to their dorms surprisingly early, meaning that there were not many people about the common room.

Harry was sitting at a secluded corner table, his Transfiguration textbook open in front of him. In truth, studying Transfiguration didn't feel as much like work as other subjects did—History of Magic and Potions being prime examples. His affinity for the subject was becoming famous among his year mates, even among the older students. Harry thought it was more that he liked the idea of Transfiguration so much that he just couldn't help but push himself to become good at it. Growing up in a cupboard, Harry would have given anything for the ability to alter his surroundings to fit his will. Although he was still a long way away from being able to make things larger on the inside than they were on the outside, or change the features of whole rooms, even tiny things like being able to turn a matchstick into a needle felt like a small taste of that, a small victory which hopefully would lead to even greater and better things.

So Harry was studying Transfiguration, and enjoying himself immensely doing so. He had started reading ahead of their assigned readings from _A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration_ , and was in fact close to completing the book. Though he had no doubt he would forget much of it, he hoped it would do him some good. He wanted to try some of the things described there quite badly, but was constrained by a lack of material: the latter half of the book focused on animate-to-inanimate transfigurations, and he did not have ready access to any animals to practice on. Not everything was along those lines, though. With a smile, he reached for his bag, whence he retrieved a quill. As he lifted up his head from it, he came face to face with Pansy Parkinson's brown eyes, watching him intently. 

Harry blinked. "Erm, hello Parkinson," he said. He had never had much interaction with the haughty looking girl, either good or bad, so he was a bit lost as to why she was watching him now.

"Potter," she replied in her detached, superior tone. She still seemed intent on watching him, looking more serious than he'd ever seen her, though Harry had a sneaking suspicious that that was because she knew he would find that more puzzling.

"Do you need anything?" Harry asked, straightening himself and bringing the quill up to the table in front of him, as she started playing with her dark brown hair, which was decorated with two rather incongruous pink bows, one on either side of her head. Harry could think of few ornaments that suited her personality less.

"Loads of things, Potter," she answered. "But nothing from you." She smiled in a way that Harry found to actually be more unsettling than her seriousness was, like she was laughing at Harry's expense, and he couldn't figure out what was funny.

Fortunately, she went on. "I was just wanting to know what could be so interesting to read at this time of night. When I saw it was a textbook, I just wondered if you were turning into a Ravenclaw, or that Gryffindor Granger. If there was ever a Sorting mistake, it's that one," she added. She clearly liked listening to the sound of her own voice, for she continued unabated. "Seriously Potter, what's the deal? You're already in the library half the time, but this is new even for you."

Harry shrugged. He didn't particularly feel like he had to justify how he chose to spend his time to a girl he barely spoke to, but she actually didn't sound actively malicious, just haughty and superior. She always sounded like that, though, so he didn't think she was demeaning him in particular, any more than just the world in general for not being Pansy Parkinson. "Transfiguration doesn't really feel like studying to me," he said, in as neutral a tone as he could. It was absolutely true, and his aptitude for Transfiguration was so well known by now that it was a perfectly believable statement, that nevertheless said remarkably little.

Pansy gave him a doubtful look. "I know you're really good in that class, but it's still schoolwork," she said stubbornly.

"It _is_ work," Harry replied, still not sure he ought to be having this conversation at all. "But it's enjoyable work," he clarified, "not like Potions or History of Magic where it's just gruelling toil without any payoff. Transfiguration is fun," he finished, and feeling slightly mischievous, lifted his wand and, before Pansy could stop him or react at all, transfigured one of her bows into a small twig. He'd never tried this particular change before, and was surprised at how effortless it felt. Apparently principles from one transfiguration translated well into another.

Pansy meanwhile wasn't giving much thought to how Transfiguration worked. When Harry cast his spell, she gave a small scream, but the few occupants of the common room spared them little more than a glance: it didn't look like any more than two first years messing about. She raised her hands to her hair and, seeing nothing had happened to her actual person, and realizing the bow had been changed, she regained her composure, but shot Harry a deathly glare. "Very funny, Potter," she said. "Now change it back before I hex you to pieces," she said, and punctuated her statement by drawing her wand, though Harry didn't feel she was that annoyed about it.

Still, one never knew with girls. Harry quickly reversed the transfiguration, and the bow returned to its original form. Unfortunately, Harry was not so skilled that he could reverse the mess the loss of the bow had made to Pansy's hair, which still looked rather mussed when compared to its immaculate composure before he'd cast his spell.

Pansy sniffed, and drew a pocket mirror from within the folds of her robes. Opening it, she glanced at her reflection dubiously. "If I wasn't about to go to bed anyway," she said in the same oddly detached, though haughty, tone, "I would be very angry. But since I should probably be in bed anyway, I'm going to take that as you intended." 

She paused for a while, and Harry was still having trouble gauging her mood. Suddenly, she surprised him by flashing him a smile which, while it still had a slightly predatory edge to it, seemed meant to convey something resembling good will. She retrieved first the bow that had been transfigured and then the other one, fixing the mess of tangles caused by the former and letting her hair hang down in the process.

"I get it. You think Transfiguration is actually fun," she finally said. "I don't understand how someone could think that, but I get it," she said, her face contorting in distaste, making her look a bit like a pug.

Harry was not quite sure what to say to that, so he kept quiet. "I'm not much for Transfiguration," Pansy went on. "Charms are where I excel."

"Charms are quite useful," Harry replied cautiously. Pansy greeted this with a smile.

"The best thing about being at Hogwarts and being allowed to do magic is being able to try different cosmetic charms. I'm sure as a boy you wouldn't know anything about it, but a magazine comes out every two months with new beauty charms from all over the world. I always read my mum's copy and was so keen to try them out, and now I finally can," she monologued. Harry had no idea what to respond to this, as he had only got to know girls once he came to Hogwarts, and none of the ones that Harry considered himself close to were as concerned with cosmetics as Pansy obviously was.

Fortunately, she wasn't waiting for a reply. "But some charms are quite hard. There's only so many of them I'm able to do with what we learn in first year," Pansy continued. Harry guessed she found he made a better audience than Malfoy, who was just as conceited.

"So what do you do when you can't do one of them?" Harry asked, just to say something.

Pansy frowned. "I try it over and over again and find more advanced books to clarify what I'm doing wrong. I can't always understand what they're talking about, though," she said with a frown and what was quite close to a pout. "But of course I can't ask Flitwick about it, he'll just say I'm too young to be worrying about cosmetic charms anyway." She scoffed. "As if a man would know anything about cosmetic magic," she finished sniffily.

It was certainly true that Harry didn't know anything about cosmetic magic, which was why he had no clue why the present conversation was even happening. He did find something slightly odd, though. "Why is it only charms that are used for that, then? I mean, it sounds like you could use transfiguration for that too, like if someone thought their nose was too big, they could transfigure it to be smaller," Harry said.

Pansy gave him a shrewd smile. "I was wondering when you'd think of that. Yes, you can transfigure yourself, at least in principle. But Transfiguration is already more difficult than Charms, and transfiguring yourself is very hard even for Transfiguration, especially for something that would have to be done well in order to look natural," she explained.

Harry couldn't help but feel that he was being led somewhere, but he wasn't sure where. He didn't particularly appreciate the feeling of being talked down to, though he knew Pansy was like that with almost everyone. "But if you were really good at it, you could do it. Someone like McGonagall, for instance, could."

Pansy's nose curled with distaste. "Lord knows she could use some," she said with disdain. "But yes, someone like that probably could, up to a point. I don't know a lot about it, just that it's supposed to be possible but really hard," she shrugged. "Probably not something I'll ever be able to do, so I never really worried much about it." 

"You could try, though. I mean, sure it's supposed to be hard, but you never know until you try it," Harry said, his passion for Transfiguration getting the better of him.

Pansy gave him a somewhat pained look. "I just can't get my head around it. It just seems too confusing," she said. "I don't think McGonagall likes me, and I don't like the way she teaches. Though she's definitely better than Quirrell," she added, with a disdainful look.

Harry thought McGonagall's methods were actually pretty good, but wasn't stupid enough to air his opinion so openly at this time. "I don't think she has anything against you," he said, and he didn't, though he hadn't paid much attention to what the professor said to the other students, unless it was related to a transfiguration question.

Pansy looked at Harry with mock pity. "You still have a lot to learn, Potter," she said, like she was actually trying to sound haughty now. "Most of us weren't born with a gift for transfiguration, and so we can't charm her with our brilliant work."

Harry frowned. "Hey, while I enjoy Transfiguration, I can only do as well as I do because I work hard at it," he replied, his temper rising slightly. "I guess I can understand having trouble following McGonagall's lectures or the textbook, but you can ask someone to help you."

"No one can understand anything she explains," Pansy insisted stubbornly. "At least not the complicated stuff."

"It's not that complicated if you think about it for a few minutes. I can understand it, and people I've explained it to seem to get it," Harry said, thinking of his studying with Tracey and Morag. An idea suddenly came to his mind. He could almost see the light-bulb light up above his head, like in the few cartoons he had managed to watch in his childhood.

"Well, you must be the only one who understands it then," Pansy replied stubbornly, sounding skeptical, interrupting Harry's sudden epiphany. "If you did actually manage to explain that stuff to someone and make them understand it, then you must some sort of prodigy."

Harry was almost sure his earlier idea was right. "It's honestly not that complicated," Harry said. "I think you're just making it into something really complicated in your head." Pansy's reply to his words would almost certainly provide final confirmation.

"I'm pretty sure I'm not," Pansy retorted. "How would you know anyway?"

Yeah, Pansy was almost certainly trying to inveigle him into help her with Transfiguration. He briefly wondered why she didn't just ask, but quickly realized she probably didn't think she knew him well enough for him to say yes to that. Which he supposed was fair enough, but he wouldn't have actually minded, as he found tutoring others helped him improve as well. Still, he wasn't going to let on he knew what she was up to. "Well, as I've told you, I was able to explain it to other people. I bet you'd understand if I explained it to you," he said, giving her just enough of an opening for her to exploit.

Pansy gave him a positively predatory smile upon hearing these words, which Harry would have found unsettling were he not already expecting it. "Do you think so?" she asked in a voice that sounded so saccharine it was eerie.

Harry nodded, trying to look meek and surprised by the change in her demeanour.

"We should find out, then," she said. "I don't normally like Transfiguration, but I'll make an exception and let myself be a test subject for this. I bet you're not nearly as good a tutor as you think you are."

Grinning inwardly at this amazingly roundabout way of asking Harry to tutor her, he pretended to consider his response. He had already decided he would do it, but the way she said it made it sound and if she was doing _him_ a favour.

"I already know I'm quite good," he said, unable to shake the feeling he sounded slightly forced. Sounding conceited didn't really come very naturally to him. "But I'm quite happy to help my house mates. We've got to make Slytherin look good, especially in the class taught by the head of Gryffindor," he said, feeling that the house pride angle was the best one. By assigning his motive to House pride, he dispelled any notions that she was doing him any sort of favours. Other than that, Harry would play along and let her think she was some sort of clever manipulator. It wasn't good to let others know you were too clever. Harry still thought she was putting way too much effort into something that was really not that important, but then he didn't know how desperate she was about her transfiguration marks.

Pansy seemed taken aback by this, as if it wasn't exactly what she was expecting. But as it served her purposes, she just replied "Quite," in a curt manner, before rising from her seat and facing the girls' dorms. "I need to check my schedule for the next few days," she said solemnly, which made Harry chuckle inwardly, though he was careful not to let any of this show; as if her 'schedule' was going to be any different from his. She went on, "I'll let you know when I'm available tomorrow. See you, Potter," she finished, and with a curt nod, headed towards her dorms.

Harry was left chucking to himself. He'd bet Pansy wouldn't have thought she was being so transparent. Maybe seeing Dudley con his parents into giving him what he wanted had made Harry more attuned to this kind of thing than he had thought. His friends might give him some grief about this 'deal'; Pansy was still a bit annoying. But he hadn't committed himself to anything he didn't like doing. And he had averted any notions of being in her debt, while not really letting on he knew what she was up to. Up to that moment, he had never really been faced with the fact that Slytherin was supposed to be the house of the cunning and resourceful: and what are schoolchildren more apt to be resourceful and cunning at than school work? He sighed and decided he would need to be more careful in the future around people outwith his circle. While he had caught on this time, Pansy was just a first year, and he could have been lucky. Feeling weary and tired all of a sudden, he gathered his things and went to bed.

* * *

Pansy did 'let him know' that she would be available on Saturday morning. This was quite a surprise for Harry, as he had never known her for getting up early on a Saturday. Still, he thought he might as well get on with it. He did end up sharing the story with Ted and Daphne, who started by gaving him no end of grief about it.

"You just shouldn't do it," Daphne had said. "Just say you're busy, if you don't want to say no to her face." 

But Harry had rebuffed that. He explained the whole conversation from his perspective, and how he had cottoned on to what Pansy was doing, but went along with it. While Daphne gave him a dubious look, which made Harry suspect that the two girls might not get along very well, they did let him off the hook after that.

So Harry met Pansy on Saturday morning, after breakfast, which was a quick affair. She actually did seem keen to get work done, which made him wonder just how much of what she had told him before was true. Still, he kept his speculations to himself, and went along with Pansy to the library. He was not quite as congenial as he would otherwise have been had she been more straightforward with her asking; he didn't like that she had tried to take advantage of him in the first place. Still, he was reasonably civil, and the two set to work, methodically working through the topics which they had been learning about recently.

As Harry was wont to do, they reviewed the theory first, and then proceeded towards the practical. He was not in the mood for much chit chat, and kept the conversation strictly on school work, ignoring Pansy's attempts to drift into idle conversation.

Despite finding her lazy and unfocused, Harry realize that Pansy could actually be quite clever when she applied herself to something, and possibly just needed a bit of motivation. So he told her, "Focus on what you can do if you master Transfiguration. Remember how McGonagall turned that table into a cow? Well, think something on that scale, but something more…useful."

She seemed to give this some thought, and though she did not tell him what she was thinking about, she did seem more motivated, and by lunch time she had managed serviceable attempts at most of the Transfigurations they had tried in class.

"Now remember to actually practice that. Also, we should get something slightly different from what we've done in class on the exams, so be sure to actually understand the theory," Harry warned as they packed their things. After her nod, and before she could inveigle him into talking about anything non-Transfiguration related, he murmured a quick "Got to go now," and grabbing his bag, left the library as fast as he could without drawing Madam Pince's ire upon himself.

* * *

"So, how did your tutoring session with Parkinson go?" Ted asked with a smirk. It was a nice Saturday afternoon. They had finished up lunch in the Great Hall and were now taking a leisurely walk through the grounds. Harry had suggested that, as he had some dangling questions from his research into his family history he thought Ted would be in a good position to answer. It did, however, mean that the teasing he had endured at the lunch table over his tutoring prowess continued, though slightly abated, as Ted's personality just wasn't as given to it as Harry's other friends—he had kept his silence throughout lunch while Daphne had been at the forefront. Harry had taken it in stride, though, as it was done in quite a friendly spirit; Harry knew all about malicious teasing from his childhood, and this wasn't it. Harry just responded to his friend's ribbing with a shrug.

"It went a lot better than I expected, actually. She actually did seem to be making an effort, which helped," Harry replied. "Now can we drop this? I've some important stuff to talk to you about..."

Ted nodded, his demeanour instantly shifting towards his usual serious one. He looked at Harry with a cocked eyebrow. "Is there anything wrong?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. "Not wrong, no. I was doing some more reading up on my family history," he started to explain. "Blaise lent me another book, called _Nature's Nobility: A Wizard's Genealogy_. I didn't tell him all the reasons I wanted to read up on my family, mind," he clarified.

Ted nodded. "That's an alright book. I'm almost certain we have a copy back home as well, but there's so many books with similar titles that I may be confusing it with something else." He shrugged. "Did you find anything interesting?"

"I did. It confirms the fact that my family is descended from the Peverells through some female descendant of Ignotus," Harry started to share. "They list the Peverells as one of the wizard families who went extinct in the male line with no one left to carry their name. But they list one other family who's descended from them, this one through a descendant of Cadmus. If you remember, Cadmus..."

"Was the middle brother, the one who got the Resurrection Stone," Ted finished for him. "I remember." After a pause, the taller boy went on. "Which family was it?" he asked.

"Some people called the Gaunts," Harry replied. "I've never heard of them, but that doesn't mean much."

Ted frowned. "That name definitely rings a bell, but I can't put my finger on it. I'm pretty sure I've heard my father mention them, actually."

His friend's words gave Harry some hope that he would be able to find these mysterious Gaunts. "The book mentioned something else about them. It said that they were descended from Salazar Slytherin, through the female line as well," Harry went on, proceeding to the second point he wanted to talk about.

"That's it, that's where I've heard of them! They were known for that. They are listed in the Pure Blood directory my grandfather wrote," Ted replied excitedly. "Remember I told you about it?" 

Harry nodded. He had not forgotten either the book or his friend's promise to bring it back with him after the Easter holidays.

"Well, the Gaunts were one of the so-called Sacred Twenty-Eight," Ted explained. At Harry's inquiring look, he continued. "Those were the only twenty eight British wizard families which my grandfather considered to be pure enough," Ted explained. "Mind you, even for the standards of pure blood ideologues, he was quite extreme. You probably known that most people will consider someone to be pure blooded if all their grandparents were wizards."

Harry nodded. "Right, I was wondering. I would've thought there were more than twenty eight families like that."

"Yeah, the difference is that grandfather researched these families way beyond that stage, and only considered them truly pure blooded if he could find no muggle ancestry at all," Ted replied, his face creased with a frown of distaste for the topic. "So for instance, even though your father was a pureblood according to most people's reckoning, the Potters were _not_ included in the directory. Of course, the reason those twenty eight made it in was probably that they were better at getting rid of the evidence that they had muggle ancestors," Ted finished with a smirk.

"Sounds like your grandfather was a true believer in that sort of thing," Harry said, slightly disturbed by the lengths at which the old man had gone.

Ted nodded with a dark look. "I never knew him, but he most definitely was. That's probably where my father got it from. I'm obviously the black sheep of the family," he finished with a wry grin.

Harry felt for his friend, and gave him an awkward pat on the back, trying to give him some measure of comfort, though he was not sure of the best way to do so. As usual when dealing with more emotive situations, he felt awkward and out of his depth.

Fortunately, Ted seemed to appreciate the gesture for what it was meant to convey, and didn't make the situation any more awkward. Instead, he simply went on. "Of course, that only reflected the situation as far as the thirties anyway. Bulstrode isn't a Pureblood, for instance, even on the 'normal' reckoning."

"Is that Millicent Bulstrode from our year?" Harry asked. He hadn't talked much with the unfriendly looking girl, even less than with Pansy, so he hadn't expected a mention of her family, though in all fairness, he hadn't talked much with Malfoy either, and his family had to be one of the Twenty-Eight.

Ted nodded. "Yep. Her father married a muggle. Big scandal among the pureblood society, I can tell you that. My father was livid. Mind you, just because a family is included in there doesn't mean they themselves have these ideas. The Weasleys are one of the Twenty-Eight, for instance, and they're considered to be blood traitors by purists. It seems that in their case, their not mixing with anyone of muggle ancestry was just accidental."

Harry chewed on that in silence for a while. He could always count on Ted to provide background information of this sort. In a way Harry did not like to think about, Mr. Nott's being a Death Eater actually had its advantages. He was given a window into a side of magical society that seemed to remain mostly hidden, and codes and conventions that were only spoken of in hushed tones if at all.

Oblivious to Harry's ruminations, Ted went on. "It also doesn't mean the family is rich. I mean, some—like the Malfoys—obviously are, but Lord knows the Weasleys are anything but. And my own family is hardly swimming in money either, though since there's only one of me, that's less of a problem than it is for them," he said wryly.

Harry was surprised at this admission, as he had never heard his friend talk about money. It was true that he did not get the expensive gifts some of his house mates did, but he assumed that was just due to coldness on his father's part, rather than any financial troubles. He was going to say something, but his friend obviously had some idea of what Harry as thinking.

"We're hardly going to starve, Harry. I know what you're thinking," Ted said, shaking his head. Harry started to protests, but his friend cut him off. "You're too transparent sometimes," he said with a small smile.

Harry looked down, but Ted gave him a small pat on the back. "Your concern is duly noted, mind you." They walked in silence for a while, until Ted spoke again. "Why were we talking about the _Pureblood Directory_ again?"

"Oh right," Harry said, jolted back to their earlier conversation. "I found out that this family called the Gaunts were descended of Cadmus Peverell," he recalled.

"That's right," Ted replied. "They're definitely one of the Twenty-Eight. I don't remember much about them, though. I do think I read some very strange things about them, like the entire family was completely messed up from only marrying close relatives."

Harry made a face at the thought. "They were descended from Salazar Slytherin as well, according to Blaise's book, and you were supposed to be able to know this was true..."

"...by their gift of Parsletongue," Ted finished. "I remember now. They all had that mark of the descendants of Slytherin."

"I'd never heard of Parsletongue before, though," Harry said. "And the book didn't explain what it was, other than that it ran in Slytherin's line."

"Did you ever ask yourself why our House mascot is a snake?" Ted asked him. Harry actually had never really thought about where the house mascots came from or what they were supposed to mean, but fortunately Ted wasn't actually expecting a reply. "The serpent represents Slytherin house because it was the animal Salazar Slytherin had greatest affinity for; so much so that he developed some way of speaking to them, and it has run in his line ever since. That's what Parseltongue is, the ability to speak to and understand snakes," Ted explained.

Harry thought he'd misheard for a second, but the sudden cry of a bird of prey flying overhead told him there was nothing wrong with his ears. Memories flooded back to him of the time at the zoo, just before he found out he was a wizard. While he now knew that the vanishing glass had been a product of accidental magic, of the sort magical children perform in situations of stress or heightened emotion, before they learn how to control it, he had clearly spoken to the boa constrictor, and _it_ had clearly spoken back.

Harry had stopped dead in his tracks in shock at the revelation, and was oblivious to Ted's look of concern. "Are you alright, Harry? You look petrified. Did I say something wrong?" his friend was asking.

Harry was finally able to break himself from his rushing thoughts. Shaking his head violently, he brought himself back to reality. "Sorry, I just..." he trailed. "Did you say Parseltongue was speaking to snakes? Are you sure of that?" Harry asked, stalling for time to make sense of his thoughts and at the same time confirming there was no mistake.

Ted nodded. "That's right. Speaking to snakes and understanding them as well. The Dark Lord was supposed to have that ability, though I don't know whether that was because he was a descendant of Slytherin, if it just appeared spontaneously, or if he found a way to give himself the ability by magic," Ted elaborated.

Harry felt even queasier. Did this mean he shared the ability to speak to snakes with Voldemort? Was that why he had tried to kill Harry? But how could he possible have known that? Harry didn't know what to think. Should he ask Ted about it?

"Are you sure you're okay, Harry? You look pale," his friend said.

Harry straightened himself and started walking again, away from the school, beckoning Ted to follow him. They walked in silence for a few seconds. When Harry finally spoke, he did so in a quieter tone, lower tone. "I've spoken to a snake before," he confessed.

Ted received this in a somewhat collected manner, but nevertheless gave Harry an odd look. However, he was quick to ask, "Are you sure about that?"

Harry nodded. "It would be pretty hard to be mistaken about something like that, I think," he replied with a wry smile. "It was only the one time. I was visiting the zoo—that's where muggles keep animals for people to go and look at—with my relatives," he started to recount. "We were seeing the reptiles, and my cousin wanted a boa constrictor to move for him. He gave up after a while, but I stayed behind and just started talking to the snake. I wasn't expecting it to understand and nod back, though!" he finished by exclaiming.

"Why did you start talking to it, then?" Ted asked. "Are you sure you'd never talked to a snake before?"

"Positive," Harry replied. "I was just annoyed by my cousin, and that happened to be the animal we were looking at. Of course, then they noticed and pushed me out of the way," Harry told Ted with a frown. "Then my accidental magic made the protective glass vanish, and my cousin fell into the snake pit. Of course, then the snake escaped. And it thanked me when it was slithering away! That's how I know I wasn't just imagining things. I actually heard it, Ted!"

Ted was silent for a moment as they kept walking. The news had had a much smaller impact on the taller boy than Harry had expected. "It can be that the whole thing was just accidental magic acting up, not just the glass," he started. "But I don't think that's very likely. I've never heard of accidental magic doing something like that. It's usually something much simpler and instinctive, and it focuses on a source of pain of discomfort to the person. It makes sense with your cousin—he had just pushed you, so you made the glass disappear to make him fall in. But you wouldn't have any reason to want to speak to the snake. It wasn't attacking you or anything." Ted paused to let Harry process fully the implications of what he was saying. Finally, he went on, "It does seem that you're a parselmouth. We should test that with a snake, but it's winter, so I doubt we'd be able to find any around here."

Harry nodded. "Why would I be a parselmouth, though? I'm not descended from Slytherin as well, am I?" he asked.

"Not as far as we know, no. I mean, you said the Peverells themselves were not related to Slytherin, right? The descendants of Cadmus just somehow married into the Gaunts," Ted replied.

"That's right, at least as far as Blaise's book knew about. It said nothing about my family being related to Slytherin. And of course, my mother was muggleborn," Harry went on, trying not to let too much bitterness into his tone, as he was wont to do when talking about his parents. "So she's definitely not related to him either. Besides, I doubt any of them were able to speak to snakes. Certainly no one's mentioned that to me before."

"They almost certainly were not, but even if were they wouldn't have been likely to advertise it," Ted explained. "It's considered to be a mark of a dark wizard. It probably didn't help that the Dark Lord was known for it," he went on, "but even before he arose people thought that." After a pause he added, "You probably shouldn't mention it to anybody."

Harry shot him a grateful look. "Thanks for letting me know," he replied. "I guess I should say I'm not evil? I didn't even know about parseltongue until I read about it, and even then I didn't really know what it was until just now."

Ted gave a small chuckle. "Remember I actually have some inside knowledge of what dark wizards are like," he replied sombrely. "And besides, remember we're Slytherins. Being able to speak to snakes might actually be a benefit in our house; people would be bound to think you were a descendant of Slytherin that had just never been acknowledged. Either that, or that it had something to do with your defeating the Dark Lord," he speculated.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked in return. "Do you think that's why Voldemort tried to kill me? Because I'm a parselmouth too?"

Suppressing a shudder at Harry's mention of Voldemort's name, Ted replied. "I don't know. I don't know how he'd be able to know something like that, but the Dark Lord knew a lot of advanced and obscure magic. He might have been able to tell who was a parselmouth. But of course no one really knows why he tried to kill you that day, so that's all speculation." Ted shrugged. "Sorry if you don't like talking about it, but you did ask my opinion," he added when he noticed Harry's tense demeanour.

"I know, I know, it's not your fault. I just feel really angry whenever I think about it," Harry replied, clenching and unclenching his fists repeatedly. They walked in silence for a bit more, now no longer walking away from the castle, but across the grounds in a direction parallel to it. Their feet were wet from the slush that covered most of the grounds, February having brought with it just enough warmth to only partially melt the snow. "Don't worry about it, though. I wish there was a way to know for sure whether I'm really a parselmouth." A sudden inspiration suddenly hit Harry. "Do you think when you go home for Easter, you can bring back a snake of some kind? I know we're not allowed to, but I'm sure you could manage to hide it. We'd release it after trying it out," Harry suggested.

"I don't know where I'd get a snake, but we can try," he replied. "I'd have to be careful not to let Father know about it, but that shouldn't be too much of a problem. It'd be far from the first time," he finished, looking grim but determined.

"I don't want to get you into trouble," Harry said.

"Don't worry about it. Like I said, I'm used to it. Besides, isn't that what friends are for?" Ted replied. "I'm rather curious myself. I'd like to see parseltongue in action, if you'd show me," he said hopefully.

Harry gave a rueful grin. "I don't see why not, though it's not something I'm that keen on doing left and right."

"Oh, of course. Needless to say, we're not going to tell the whole school about this."

Harry nodded in reply, and they walked in silence again for a little longer. They started turning to walk a circle around the castle, though they were actually about a quarter of a mile away from it. Harry was not regretting his decision to tell his friend about being a parselmouth. Instead of reacting with shock or outrage (for which there was more cause for than Harry had known before he'd spoken), he had actually given him some useful speculations, as well as promising to keep it quiet. Harry sometimes worried about trusting Ted too much, but he hadn't had any cause to regret it, and Ted had actually told him one big secret about himself too. In the end, as it was so often the case, it came down to his gut feeling that he could trust his friend, and that's where he was going to leave it.

"So what else do you know about these Gaunts?" Harry finally asked, eager to move the conversation away from his own Parselmouth ability.

"Not much," Ted replied, sounding thankful for the silence having finally been broken. "I don't even remember all I read in the _Pureblood Directory_. Do you still want me to bring that back, by the way?"

Harry nodded vigorously. "Now more than even. No matter what he believed about pureblood superiority, he seems to have done a lot of research onto families' histories. It would be stupid to let all that work go to waste," he replied.

"Thought so," Ted said. "Anyway, I don't really remember much. They were still extant in the thirties, though whether they still are now is anyone's guess. I certainly don't remember ever hearing about anyone named Gaunt doing anything recently, so they may have died out as well. It's happened to the Prewetts, for instance. The two remaining sons were killed by Death Eaters."

Was one of those Death Eaters Mr. Nott? That thought went unspoken. Harry didn't think Ted knew whether his father had killed the Prewetts either, which had to be horrible for him. Harry tried to move the conversation away from that subject. "Right, well, that's another thing to look up. See if we can find anyone with that name. I might even have to resort to pumping Malfoy for information." He grimaced. "Let's keep that as last resort, though."

Ted laughed. "Yeah, let's try not to have to deal with Malfoy. I guess he might know something though. His father certainly is all about purity of blood as well." He looked around, and seeing no one in a position to eavesdrop, lowered his voice into a whisper and went on, bending closer to Harry. "Malfoy's father was a Death Eater too," he revealed. "I've overheard my father talking about him. Got away with it just like my father did, though he had a much easier time of it. He's very rich, so it was easy for him bribe his way out of prison."

Harry's eyes widened at this. He wondered how many of his housemates' parents had been Voldemort's servants. "Now that you say it, it doesn't surprise me all that much," said Harry, thinking of Draco's many rants about blood purity in the relative privacy of the common room or their dorm. "But with him going on all the time about 'my father' this and that, you wouldn't think there was any dark secret there."

Ted smirked. "Malfoy probably believes his father's story. I could be wrong about that, but I bet I'm not. It helps that his father probably goes out of his way to pamper him," he finished bitterly; the implied contrast with Mr. Nott was obvious to Harry. He knew Ted didn't want pity, but he did feel bad for him. Harry knew what it was like being raised by degenerates, but at least they were not as closely related to him as Ted's father was. Harry had never actually asked Ted much about what went on between his father and himself, as he had an instinctive knowledge of the aversion his friend had to have for such a discussion. Nevertheless, he worried about him.

By common agreement, the two Slytherins started heading back towards the castle. While it was still light out, the sun was starting to go down: afternoons were still quite short. Harry had never realized how far north the North of Scotland really was until he came to school there.

"Thanks for telling me about all this," Harry said. "I don't know what I'd do without you explaining all this stuff. Probably make an ass of myself even more than I already do," he said ruefully.

Ted smiled sadly. "You hardly make an ass of yourself, Harry. Certainly not any more than the average student, though let's face it, we're first years, we're going to make asses of ourselves at least sometimes."

Harry laughed at this. "Well, I suppose it's true. But not being raised in the magical world, there's tons of stuff I don't know," he elaborated. "It helps having someone to tell me about it, especially in Slytherin where every other student seems to come from an old, traditional family."

Ted nodded. "I'm sure you'd do fine without me, but I don't mind helping. It's not like you've not done anything for me either," he replied.

Nodding slowly, remembering their many study sessions, Harry kept walking towards the castle in companionable silence. As the sun went down and cast magnificent red and golden hues over the forbidden forest, making it seem for a moment as enchanted and welcoming, rather than its usual more terrifying appearance, he felt strangely at peace. It was like all his worries, his research projects and school work had faded into the background, and all he could think of at the moment was how beautiful the light looked reflected off a pool of water among the slush, and how the thistles which dotted the grounds here and there, peeking through the snow, looked even more austere than usual, dotted with white. With a sigh, he approached the school gates and committed that image to memory. It would give him solace in the days to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was it. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, as it was not an easy one to write. I know I've said this before, but expect the plot to pick up in the coming chapters. Please review, I appreciate all of them. The first scene took a lot of work and went through many iterations; I'm still not sure if I've done a very good job, so I especially welcome feedback on it. In general, I'd love to know what worked for you, and what didn't. See you next time.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 12! This is one of those dreaded character development chapters! If you're a Daphne fan, hold tight to your seats, because we'll be finding out a bit more about her and what makes her tick.
> 
> Kai Julian: I'm glad you like my take on Theodore. For the rest, I can only say, read and find out! :)
> 
> Sadnesss: I'm really glad you like my character driven writing. It's what I like to read, and I know that it's not to everyone's taste, but characters are always what make or break a story for me.

_Full many a gem of purest ray serene,  
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear:  
Full many a flow'r is born to blush unseen,  
And waste its sweetness on the desert air._

_Thomas Gray_

Daphne Greengrass and Theodore Nott were walking through a corridor at Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The two Slytherins ambled along at a leisurely pace, unconcerned with time, as was only natural, given it was a Saturday, and they had nowhere else to be. Their friend Harry Potter didn't let little things like weekends get in the way of his busy schedule. Theodore, 'Ted' to his friends, in his mind likened Harry to a drill, determinately boring ever deeper. He didn't know why he had been drawn to the green-eyed boy when they'd met on the Hogwarts Express so many months ago, but Harry and Ted had quickly become fast friends. Soon, Daphne Greengrass had joined their group, and while Ted probably wouldn't have made friends with the hard headed black haired girl if left to his own devices, Harry had been a great catalyst between the two.

Daphne was feeling quite cheerful. She had just finished her homework for the week ahead, and Easter holidays were so close she could nearly taste them. It was too bad Harry had decided to be a bore and stay holed up in the library. He did that quite often, especially of late, as schoolwork was increasing and exams started to loom on the horizon. Though she had got hints that he was doing more than schoolwork, he didn't seem inclined to share much about that, other than that it involved his family history. She could certainly understand why he would be interested in that: the horrid muggles he had grown up with had never told him anything about them, which she thought was horrifying. _Still_ , she thought, _family history can't be all Harry's reading up on._

"Do you know what Harry's up to?" she asked, turning to the hazel-eyed boy beside her.

Ted turned and gave her a queer look. Raising an eyebrow, he replied. "He's in the library," he replied, with a grin.

Daphne punched his arm. "You know what I mean, you prat," she said. "Don't you start with me Theodore Nott," she went on, pulling her wand out and mockingly threatening him.

The boy jumped back and held up his hands in equally mock fright. "Please Miss Greengrass, forgive your humble servant," he replied, pretending to cower.

Daphne smiled. "Now you're milking it," she said. As Ted composed himself, she put her wand away again. "What I mean is, do you have any idea of what he's doing there," she went on. "He's always haring off to the library on weekends. I know he's not a crazy bookworm like Granger, and he gets his homework done easily enough, so what else is he doing in there? I have a feeling you know a lot more about it than I do," she said, turning an accusatory eye to Ted.

Ted looked serious as he thought his reply over, carefully weighing what he was about to say. Daphne looked at him expectantly. He spoke with some reluctance. "I do have some idea," he said slowly. Daphne wasn't actually expecting him to admit as much. She raised an eyebrow to cajole him into continuing. "However," he went on slowly, "I really don't think it's for me to tell you what I do know," he said gravely. "If you're really curious, you should ask Harry about it." He paused to consider his next sentence. "He'd probably tell you, I think. He likes you. I just happened to become his friend before you," he said carefully. He bore Daphne no grudge for her becoming Harry's friend, and in fact welcomed the opportunities for solitude this provided him. He had had a very solitary childhood, and while he liked having friends, he still felt a need to spend time alone every so often. Besides, Daphne had grown on him.

They walked further in silence for a minute or so. Daphne was deep in thought. As a Slytherin, she understood that keeping secrets was a necessity. Still, she thought she and Harry were close enough now that he'd feel at more liberty to tell her things. Some of these thoughts must have been showing on her face, for Ted spoke again.

"Don't take it personally. When he tells you," he said, emphasizing the word _when_ rather than _if_ , "you'll understand why he's being so secretive." He paused for a second. "It's not that he doesn't trust you, it's that he doesn't think he has you figured out yet," Ted went on, explaining what he had gathered from conversations with Harry and his own observations. "He doesn't feel he understands you yet, and if he can't understand you, he can't predict how you'll react to things; I think that's what's stopping him," he finished.

"Does he think he understand _you_?" she asked, sounding skeptical. "How come he trusts you?" She wasn't angry at Ted, just puzzled by what she perceived as a double standard. Despite that, she couldn't bring herself to be angry at Harry either. She could understand why someone with his background felt the need to be circumspect. And it was true that Ted had been Harry's friend before her, even from before the Sorting.

Ted again pondered what he was going to say quite carefully. "Harry has known me for longer, but more than that, I think he feels like he has more in common with me." The tall boy's face was grim as he uttered these words, and Daphne could tell she struck a sour chord. She decided to back off for the moment.

"I think I understand," she said with a nod, looking unusually serious. She had got the hint from how little he talked about his family that Ted's home wasn't exactly full of love—which was probably the main reason for such a strong bond between the two boys. There was something that was gnawing at her, though. She looked around and lowered her voice. "Have you told him that your father..." she trailed off uncertainly, slightly afraid of the hazel eyed boy's response.

Ted visibly tensed up, and his countenance darkened visibly. However he was able to get his bearings relatively quickly, and gave Daphne a thin smile. "He does know my father was tried for being a Death Eater," he replied cautiously. "Just like Malfoy's father, and a few others in our House," he went on.

"I wasn't saying-" Daphne started, but Ted interrupted her.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "I understand why you asked it. You were trying to find out whether Harry is safe in trusting me. Am I right?" he asked, stopping in his tracks and facing her, his hazel eyes meeting Daphne's green ones.

She swallowed. Daphne Greengrass wasn't easily rattled, but now she felt quite disconcerted. Ted looked relatively friendly still, but she wondered inwardly if it wasn't her guilt at having questioned Ted's trustworthiness that so perturbed her. She hadn't been able to help herself. She needed to know. "I know we're not supposed to mention that sort of thing in Slytherin. But I'm not some crazy jealous girl. I was, as you said, worried about Harry." She paused for a second, wondering whether she should say what she was about to say, but plunged on anyways. "My dad doesn't have a lot of good things to say about your father. He's not exactly thrilled that we're friends. But I think I'm your friend, or at least I was until now," she said passionately. "I think you can be trusted. But I never knew whether Harry knows about… _it_."

Ted interrupted her increasingly anxious tirade. "Your father's not the only one who thinks poorly of mine," he said with a sad smile. "I know you're honestly concerned, because you could have mentioned it to Harry any time you wanted, but you asked _me_ about it instead." He sighed. "It's sad that the fathers eat sour grapes and the children's teeth are set on edge too. But I understand your father's worry." After a small pause, he went on, curiosity enlivening his sad countenance. "You don't seem to have cared much about his warnings, though..." he trailed off leadingly.

Daphne smiled at this. "He doesn't know you," she started with a shrug, "and I don't like being told who my friends should be. I think I can choose them well enough on my own." She looked at Ted. "I hope I didn't ruin everything by deciding to have this conversation," she reiterated, holding up her hands. She was coming out with a newfound respect for Theodore, and it was quite a quandary that the means she had used to confirm he was worthy of friendship were also what might cause their friendship to end.

Ted seemed to give this a thought, then extended a hand. "You didn't. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you don't care what your father says about me. You're a bit headstrong," he said. Daphne was almost insulted by this, but then noticed the slight smile Ted couldn't quite restrain. "The Easter holidays will be here soon. I'll have to go home, but you'll be here with Harry. Talk to him, open up a bit, and then ask him what we've been talking about. I'm sure he trusts you, he just needs an occasion to show it," he finished optimistically.

Daphne gave him a smile in return. "Thanks, Ted," she replied solemnly. "I'll do that." After a second she added, "And I'll try to convince my dad that you're not the blackguard he thinks you are." She started walking, bidding Ted follow her. They walked away in amiable silence, because nothing else needed to be said.

* * *

Hogwarts' grounds were free of snow. March had brought warm weather, and finally banished any remains of winter from even the mountainous surroundings of Hogwarts. Harry was thinking how quickly the term had gone by as he, together with Daphne, accompanied Ted to his Easter holiday departure. There were more people staying for Easter than there had been at Christmas time, which made sense, as the latter was a season where families liked to be together. Daphne was staying too—"My parents are going on a romantic holiday, leaving my sister with our grandparents"—but Ted was expected at home, as he'd been at Christmas, which seemed to please him as little as it had earlier in the year. That said, he seemed to bear it stoically enough.

"Just try to write more often this time," Harry was saying. "It'll help keep your mind off things." He wasn't sure exactly how much Daphne knew about Ted's circumstances, so he tried to keep his reference to Ted's family troubles as non-specific as possible. He knew that she knew Ted wasn't the biggest fan of going home, as he had mentioned this in her presence, so he figured what he said was completely safe. In all fairness, Harry himself knew he didn't know the full reasons for Ted's distaste for going home, but he could make conjectures. Knowing that Mr. Nott had been a Death Eater, and that the late Mrs. Nott seemed to think that fighting for Voldemort had changed him for the worse, Harry didn't think he'd be the most caring father. It was not surprising therefore that his friend didn't like going home very much, preferring Hogwarts' relative freedom from family supervision. Harry wondered what Mrs. Nott had been like. Ted seemed to miss her very much from the few times he had spoken about his mother.

Presently, his friend gave him a sad smile. "I'll try, but it's quite hard to find time for it. Still, I'll do my best."

Harry nodded, having expected that answer. Daphne was giving the taller boy a quizzical look. Harry shook his head and changed the subject before she could ask anything. "Do you know whether anyone else from Slytherin is staying, Daphne?" he asked.

Daphne seemed to instantly forget about Ted's writing woes. She twisted her mouth in an odd grimace, trying to think her classmates over.

"I don't think many people from our year are, anyway. Malfoy is obviously going home, as are Crabbe and Goyle," she started.

"They'd be totally lost without Malfoy, anyway," Harry interjected.

Daphne smirked at this. "Probably. Pansy is also going, and so is Millicent. And I know Tracey is going to be staying with her dad," she rattled off.

"Blaise is staying," Ted butted in, distracted from his troubles. "So you won't have the dorm all to yourself Harry," he said with a wry smile.

Harry chuckled at this. "Oh well, there go my two weeks of luxury." Harry didn't feel so bad about this. He would have time to sound Blaise some more about any knowledge the history buff might have about his magical family trees, especially the information contained on the book he had lent Harry, _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_.

"So just Blaise then," Daphne summed up. "And me, of course, which is all you'd want anyway," she said with a grin.

If she was a boy, Harry would have punched her arm. "As if, Greengrass," he said instead, trying to sound indignant.

She just laughed at this, soon joined by Ted's low chuckle, with contrasted heavily with Daphne's higher, more vibrant laugh. Harry himself let his mock indignation vanish and soon joined in. "I think you're selling Blaise's qualities a bit short," he said instead.

Daphne turned at him and shrugged, a smile still on her lips. "Well, there's nothing wrong with him I guess, but you'll have to agree that my company is a lot more enjoyable," she joked.

Harry just shook his head and laughed at Daphne's antics. Soon they reached the carriages which, pulled by some invisible force, were ready to take the students to Hogsmede station. Ted turned to face his two friends and gave them a sad smile. "Well, this is it. I'll see you in a couple of weeks. Try not to miss me too much," he said wryly.

Daphne blew him a raspberry in response, while Harry just grinned. He leaned towards his friend and whispered, "Don't forget the book," referring to Ted's grandfather's book, the last piece missing for Harry's genealogical research.

His friend gave him a nod, and Harry went on at a normal volume. "Take care," he said, laying his hand on his friends shoulder and giving it a quick squeeze. "I'll write you even if you can't manage to write back," he said.

Ted nodded. "Tell Hedwig to deliver at night," he instructed Harry. "Or if I manage to write you, send it back with Malcom."

Daphne finally spoke up. "You can write to me too," she piped up. "I know you're really more Harry's friend than mine, but it'd be appreciated nonetheless.

Ted turned towards her. "Don't worry, if I can write to Harry, I'll make sure to write to you as well," he replied. It was true that Daphne and Ted probably would not have even got to know each other well had they not had Harry as a friend to begin with. Ted would probably have found Daphne far too boisterous, while she wouldn't have bothered to overcome his initial sense of reserve. That said, Daphne _had_ become Harry's friend, and through him, the two had come to actually enjoy each other's company, even passing the acid test of spending time together without Harry, often when he was in the library for one of his many parallel 'research projects.' He was happy his two friends had turned out to get along.

Ted gave them a small wave. "Enjoy your holidays and try not to have too much fun without me," he said with a wry smile, before turning and boarding one of the waiting carriages, which was already occupied by three other students, none of whom was known to them, though one was an upper year Slytherin.

Harry and Daphne stood by and watched as the remaining carriages filled with departing students, and finally started moving. They waved at Ted as he disappeared from view, headed towards Hogsmede as the carriage drove forward, imbued with some magic unknown to Harry. He didn't know whether he imagined it, but his friends countenance seem to fall the more his distance to Hogwarts increased, until he was too far away and Harry could no longer make out his features. Daphne too was staring into the distance, watching the tiny spot that the vehicle bearing their friend had become, and looking unusually subdued.

She turned and looked at Harry when they could no longer make out anything in the distance. "Is he going to be alright?" she asked, frowning and sounding much graver than usual.

Harry tried to suppress his shudder. He didn't know what Ted would have been okay with him telling Daphne, and he didn't know that much to begin with, his friend being quite guarded when it came to his relationship with his father. He didn't know if he'd told Daphne even the small fragments that Harry had been able to pick up on, though she obviously knew something was up. He turned a sombre face towards Daphne. "He'll manage," Harry replied. "He's done it up to now, hasn't he?" though he had a feeling that now that Ted had been away from home and experienced the relative freedom of Hogwarts, he would find going back home even worse than when he had not known anything else. God knew Harry was certainly dreading going back to the Dursleys in the summer, much more than he had ever hated staying with them when he hadn't known he was a wizard, and life had seemed like a wasteland of years until his eighteenth birthday, which even now seemed terribly far away. He no longer cared as much, though, because he would be spending as much of that time as possible in the magical world.

Harry and Daphne had both turned back and were walking back towards the castle in silence. A fair wind was blowing, making Harry's hair look even messier than usual and Daphne's long black mane almost hover behind her. She gathered it in a hand with annoyance, then quickly retrieved a hair band from somewhere within her robes and used it to tie her hair back in a ponytail which, despite being relatively loose, prevented it from flying all over the place.

"I really should get a hair cut," she said, sounding quite annoyed. "Imagine if this happened on the Quidditch pitch next year," she went on.

Harry gave her a small smile. "You seem quite confident you're going to make it into the team," he replied teasingly.

"Oh, I am. Don't get me wrong, I will be putting in more practise than I ever did this summer, but come on, you've seen our team play—especially our Keeper. We're good, but don't you think I could do better?" she asked. Harry thought he could detect a shade of eagerness and anxiety in her tone; did she really think that highly of Harry's own flying prowess?

He nodded slowly. "I think you could, but my Quidditch knowledge is still quite limited, so don't put so much stock on what I say," he replied, feeling slightly self-conscious as he did so.

Daphne cast him a sidelong glance and shook herself slightly. His words seemed to have had a cheering effect on her, or maybe they just broke whatever mood had gripped her. When she faced him again, she was back to her usual cheerful demeanour. "So what are we going to do these holidays?" she asked. "I suppose we should start revising," she went on, not sounding particularly enthusiastic about the prospect.

Harry made a face. "Do you think we should start so early?" he asked, not very keen on the idea. The past few weeks had been full of hard work, and he had been looking forward to taking a break, relaxing, and catching up on the 'extra-curricular' research he had been forced to postpone due to the weight of his schoolwork.

Daphne shrugged. "It probably wouldn't hurt," she replied. "It doesn't mean that we have to spend all out time doing that, mind you! If we start by doing small chunks now, then we won't have to cram day and night when it's actually exam season."

It was hard to argue with that. Harry nodded. "Let's only start tomorrow, though," he said with a grin and a plaintive look.

"Oh, I'm with you on that," she said as they passed by the beech tree that was one of their gang's favourite spots. With a small jump, Daphne lifted herself onto a low branch and sat on it, leaning her back against the thick trunk.

Harry opted to sit on the ground, such that he had to crane his neck just a tad to look up at the black haired girl. He put his hands behind his head as a makeshift pillow and willed himself to relax. The sun, whose warmth had been increasing noticeably for the past couple of weeks, shone brightly on his face, though the wind made sure he didn't feel too hot.

"You know Harry, if someone had told be before I came to Hogwarts that I'd be pals with the Boy-Who-Lived I wouldn't have believed them. Of course, I had no idea what you were like, but you were made to sound like an almost mythical figure, so it was hard thinking of you as a kid my age." She shrugged. "And yet here we are." With a grin she added. "My sister Astoria wouldn't stop asking me about you this Christmas. Even my parents were a bit curious."

Harry's curiosity was kindled. Daphne didn't often spoke about her family, though unlike Ted, he never got he feeling that was caused by any dark secrets. "What are your parents like?" he asked.

Daphne looked down at him, and pondered his question for a bit, twisting her mouth as she often did when in thought. "What do you want to know?" she asked, but went on before he could think of anything specific to ask. "Dad's in his forties, though obviously Hagrid still remembers him. He was in Slytherin at Hogwarts—like my mum. They were in different years, though. Only got to know each other properly years after they graduated."

Harry nodded. His own parents seemed to have got together very young, much younger than was the norm in the muggle world. He wondered if that happened with most magical couples. It definitely hadn't been the case with Mr. Nott, who was quite old. "What do they do?" he asked.

"Dad has a high position in the Ministry of Magic. That's where he met mum, though she doesn't work anymore," Daphne told him, sounding not exactly conceited, but... proud of her family's position was the best Harry could express it. "Dad's really tall. I get my green eyes from him, but my black hair from mum."

Harry nodded. "Other than that, which one do you look like the most?" he asked. "You know how I look like my father," he said, fighting the wave of sadness he felt when thinking of his parents' photograph in that old edition of _The Daily Prophet_ Ted had got him for Christmas.

Daphne nodded again. "I look more like dad, definitely. Astoria is more mum's child," she explained, "though she's the blond one. It's odd how that works," she said with a smile. "She's definitely more like mum's idea of the ideal child," she finished.

Harry looked up at her with a questioning look. Daphne gave him a reassuring smile in response. "Mum's a dear," she started. "But she was quite popular in Slytherin when she was at school. She thinks I should follow in her steps and start gathering my own gang of Slytherin girls to rule the roost when I'm older. She just thinks that's how it's done." She made a face. "You've known me for a while. Can you see me doing that?"

Harry grinned. The idea of Daphne as some sort of girly Slytherin Queen was quite amusing, but not exactly something he could imagine plausibly.

"Exactly." Daphne said. "I think she's made her peace that with the fact that I'm not going to be doing that, though." She paused for a second, then went on. "Though I know she only wants that because she thinks it's what's best for me."

With a sudden inspiration, Harry started, "Do you think she'd be happy if you became Quidditch Captain instead?" he asked, looking up at her.

Daphne smiled at this. "She probably would." After a moment's silence, which let Harry digest this, she went on. "I do think I could make it to Captain in a few years time. It's certainly something I've thought about. I'm sure mum would be happy, but don't think I'm so eager to be on the team just for that," she went on, guessing Harry's thoughts. "I love Quidditch, and I was put in Slytherin for a reason. I'm aiming big." After another small pause, she looked at Harry and asked him frankly, "D'you think I'm crazy?"

Harry, still looking up, gave her a grin. "Not crazy. Just crazily ambitious." She blinked at this, but smiled back. Harry went on. "You want to go professional after school, don't you?"

Daphne nodded. "The day I go onto a Quidditch pitch wearing the Harpies' uniform, that's the day I'll know I've made it." She seemed to lose focus on Harry and got a vague, dreamy look in her eyes. Harry could tell she was picturing it, and he knew his friend's ambitions had nothing do do with pleasing her parents' yearning for their child's success. That was what she wanted, and she would have nothing else. Harry realize he was seeing Daphne's most Slytherin side. Ambition seemed to be what the Hat had picked up on more than anything else. Ambition, and possibly... he didn't think she would let anything stop her from reaching her goal.

"I'm sure you will," Harry said, breaking her out of her reverie. He had little doubt she would, actually; not because of what he knew of Quidditch, which was very little, but what he knew of Daphne. He was beginning to understand what made her tick.

She shook herself slightly and jumped down from her branch to the ground, taking a seat next to Harry. "Thanks Harry. I hope you're right."

They sat there in silence for few minutes. Daphne seemed slightly embarrassed by having shared her dreams like that. "Do _you_ have any idea what you'd like to do?" she asked, changing the focus to Harry.

Harry shrugged. "I don't think I've seen enough of what people do in the magical world to be able to say that. It's not for while that we have to choose classes anyway, right?" he asked. His memories of the Hogwarts academic schedule were fuzzy.

"We will need to choose some options for third year," Daphne reminded him. "But there's not a lot to choose from. Fifth year, when we'll take our O.W.L.s, is the really important one." After a moment's pause, she went on. "And yeah, I kind of figured you wouldn't be sure. Probably not a historian, though, am I right?" she asked, holding back laughter.

Harry chuckled. "I think I'm pretty sure about that, yeah," he replied. "How old is your sister?" he asked, changing the subject. "On the first day of school I saw you saying goodbye to her on Platform Nine and Three Quarters," he explained.

"Oh, you've seen Astoria, then?" she beamed. "She's two years younger than me, so ten by now. Should be starting Hogwarts in our third year. She's quite eager to come."

Harry nodded. "Can't say I blame her. Hogwarts is really great," he replied, and then shook his head. "I can't believe the school year is almost over. I'm really not looking forward to going back to my relatives," he vented.

Daphne looked at him with a sympathetic look. "It must be awful having to live with those muggles," she replied. "I don't understand why you weren't put with a magical family instead. I'm sure there'd have been no lack of people wanting to take in the Boy-Who-Lived..."

Harry frowned. He had never really considered that, but now wondered just _why_ he had ended up with the Dursleys. "That's a pretty good point," he replied. "No one ever explained that to me. When he delivered my Hogwarts letter, Hagrid told me he'd rescued me from my parents' house and delivered me to the Dursleys, but I'm sure he didn't just do it of his own initiative. Someone must have told him to do it."

Daphne nodded. "Hagrid would have no authority to do something like that," she confirmed.

"He didn't sound like he thought it was a very good idea either," Harry went on. "So someone must have told him to do it." He exchanged a puzzled look with Daphne.

"Maybe we should go and ask him," she said, her forehead creased in a questioning frown.

Harry shook his head. "I don't think that's the best idea," he said cautiously. "Remember he's not exactly the best at keeping things quiet. I'd rather not broadcast this to the world just now," he explained.

Daphne nodded slowly, a small grin forming on her mouth. "You're so secretive, Harry. I don't think your left hand knows what your right hand is doing most of the time," she replied with an amused tone. "Do you have any better ideas?" she asked.

Harry pondered for a while, getting a sudden good idea. He looked around for any indiscreet witnesses, before lowering his voice in reply: "You said your dad worked in the Ministry of Magic," he started, conscious of asking quite a favour, and unsure of how Daphne was going to react. "Do you think, perhaps, you could ask him...?"

Daphne interrupted him before he could finish, nodding vigorously. "To dig around and see what he can find?" she asked, not sounding outraged by his requested, at least. "I could do that. He _was_ surprised when I told him that you lived with muggles, but didn't take it beyond that. I'm sure he wouldn't mind seeing what he could find, even though it isn't really his line of work, so I don't know how much he'd be allowed to have access to." She gave him a smile. "I bet Dad wouldn't mind having you over for a couple of weeks during the summer hols, to get away from the muggles for a while. I know you don't think they would have let you come for Christmas, but this time you'd actually be going away from _them_ , so maybe they might allow it?" she asked.

Harry was again chiding himself for not having considered that; though he couldn't presume people would ask him again, they _had_ at Christmas time. "I'm not sure if they prefer having me away or getting to make my life miserable," he replied, sounding bitter and not bothering to hide the fact that there was no love lost between himself and his relatives. He was sure that Daphne had figured that particular detail out already anyway. "But I'd definitely like that," he went on. "I don't want to impose on you, but if you really think your family wouldn't mind..." he trailed off uncertainly.

"I'm sure they wouldn't," she replied. "When I invited you over at Christmas I'd checked with them first, and I don't see why they'd have changed their minds between then and now. I can get Tracey to come over as well. I know you two have been talking, and my mum's her dad's second cousin," she said, giving him what Harry feared was a sly wink.

He felt himself flush. "It's nothing like that, Daphne!" he protested. "Why do you always say that whenever I talk with a girl?"

"Because it's hilarious to see you blush like that," she replied, sticking her tongue at him. "Seriously, though," she went on, composing herself, "I'm sure it could be done, we have tons of room in our house," she finished.

"What about Ted?" Harry asked. He had an inkling things might not be so smooth on that front.

Daphne looked embarrassed. "My dad and Mr. Nott…" she started hesitantly, "well, they don't really get along. I could try to mention the idea to him, but I don't think it would go down well." Harry frowned at hearing this, though he wasn't really surprised. Unlike Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Nott didn't seem to be the wizard equivalent of a VIP; despite both men being former Death Eaters who had evaded prison, Mr. Nott hadn't managed to avoid social ostracism in the same way as Mr. Malfoy. "I'm sorry, Harry," Daphne went on, noticing his frown. "I know you two are best friends, and it's not that I don't like Ted myself," she added. "Honestly, I was a bit wary of him at first, but I got over that. I don't think we'd've been friends if it wasn't for being friends with you first, but we are! It's just that I don't think my dad would go for it. He doesn't know him like I do, and he'd have to deal with Mr. Nott anyway," she explained.

Harry nodded. "I understand, don't worry." And he did, though he wasn't sure that was the whole truth.

"We could meet in Diagon Alley, though," she suddenly suggested, struck by the idea.

This convinced Harry. "Good thinking," he replied. "That way we can even make it look like we just had a chance meeting and there will be no need to involve anyone's parents," he said.

She nodded vigorously. "Yeah, that's what I was thinking," she replied. "It's better that way, I think. Plus there's tons of stuff to do in Diagon Alley, anyway. The Nimbus 2001 should be released this July," she went on, a dreamy look in her eyes. At Harry's questioning look, she elaborated. "New broomstick model. Even better than the 2000," she said. Harry nodded, remembering his trip to Diagon Alley, and the many kids he'd seen drooling over the current model.

They sat there for a few minutes longer, looking around and enjoying the cool breeze, which rustled through the leaves above them and carried the scent of heather and thistles. Spring was fully arrived, and it made Harry want to run through the fields in a mad frenzy. He felt energized and refreshed, but still wasn't in the mood to study. As he looked around, taking in the beauty of the surroundings, he heard Daphne move and then speak.

"It's almost lunch time," she said prosaically, consulting her watch. She rose to her feet on a single hopping movement, which Harry followed in a slower manner. They started walking towards the castle in companionable silence.

As they crossed the threshold, they came across Hermione Granger, who was, as ever, carrying two heavy books and not paying much attention to her surroundings. She must have been paying some, though, because she noticed Harry and Daphne, giving them a hesitant look at first. Harry raised his eyebrow at her. He remembered their last conversation well. Would she have taken anything he'd said on board? Daphne had clearly noticed her as well, and was giving her a look that Harry could not identify. Almost challenging, and yet Harry didn't feel it was particularly hostile.

Harry saw Granger flush and look anguished, and he wondered briefly if the two girls were communicating in some sort of girl-only language. Finally, she straightened herself to her full height and walked up to the two Slytherins.

"Granger," Daphne said before the bushy-haired Gryffindor had the chance to open her mouth. She raised her eyebrow in a questioning look, while Harry gave her a polite nod.

Granger seemed to be trying to justify her Gryffindor sorting, for to her credit she raised her head and spoke without hesitating. "Potter, Greengrass," she began, nodding in greeting as well. She turned to Daphne and went on. "I'm glad I came across you two. I just wanted to thank you for helping me deal with Ronald a while ago. I still don't really understand why you did it, but I had a talk with Ha... Potter here a while ago," she said, "and he pointed out I was being quite ungrateful. I suppose he was right."

Daphne gave Harry a sidelong glance. He knew he would be hearing about this later. "Thank you," she said simply, giving Granger a small smile. "That didn't hurt, did it?" she asked in a more sarcastic tone. Granger flinched a bit at this. "I didn't put him up to that, by the way," she said with another sidelong glance at Harry. "And I wasn't expecting anything in return, but it's good that you said something," she finished.

Granger clearly didn't know what to answer to that. "It's just that Gryffindors..." she started, but Daphne interrupted her.

"I know, I know: Gryffindors don't get along with Slytherins. And therefore I couldn't be doing something even a little bit nice... at least not without wanting something for it." She sighed. "Don't worry, I get it. I hope Weasley hasn't given you any more crap since then."

Granger gave her a thin smile. "Ronald and I aren't really talking at the moment," she said, pressing her lips together.

Daphne actually let out a clear laugh at this. "Good for you. Come on Harry," she said, turning back to him. "Lunch awaits."

Granger suddenly looked alarmed. "Is it lunch time already?" she asked.

Daphne, who had already started walking away, followed quickly by Harry, turned back and shouted, "You shouldn't study so much that you forget to eat," the last words coming out just as they turned a corner and the Gryffindor disappeared from view. Daphne walked quickly, and Harry almost had to run to follow her. "What did you actually tell her?" she asked, not sounding nearly as upset as Harry had feared.

"I just told her that she should have thanked you for helping her. Mind you, I didn't go and tell her that on purpose, I was asking her for a library book. That just came up," Harry explained.

Daphne raised her eyebrows at this. "How did it 'come up'?" she asked.

"She was surprised I didn't have either you or Ted with me," Harry explain, thinking it prudent to withhold the way Granger had described Daphne. "Since she mentioned you, I thought I should say something about her not thanking you," he said, catching up to Daphne, who had slowed down.

Daphne nodded. "Fair enough. I appreciate what you were trying to do, but don't worry about it in the future," she went on.

Harry cringed as they entered the Great Hall. Since more students were staying over for Easter, the tables were still arranged according to the different houses, rather than a single one as at Christmas. They took a seat at the Slytherin table.

"I'm not upset or anything," she said. She actually looked slightly embarrassed and ill-at-ease, which was not something Harry was used to seeing in her. "I just, I don't know... I _was_ a bit annoyed that she didn't say anything, but I just chalked it up as her not knowing how things work, being muggleborn and all, so I wasn't really offended."

Harry blinked at this. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, muggleborns don't really know our society that well, do they?" she asked, between bites of pork roast. "So I'm not really offended if they aren't polite to me or anything, because they don't really know any better."

Harry wasn't sure what to make of this. "You know I'm as good as muggleborn, right? Remember I only found out I was a wizard a few weeks before coming here."

Daphne leaned back and gave him a small smile. "Yes, but," she started, taking a sip of water, "everyone knows who you are, and you're in Slytherin." She paused to take another bite, and Harry opened his mouth to say something. Daphne raised her hand to ask him to wait, and continued after swallowing. "That means that people _expect_ you to know these things, even if you don't, because no one thinks of you as muggleborn, and even if you were muggleborn, most people in this house wouldn't give you a pass because of that. So you had to pick up all these things anyway, which might actually have been better for you," she explained. "Besides, me and Ted come from some really old families," she continued, stating it as a simple fact without any of Malfoy's arrogance when talking about his own family, which added to Harry's mixed feelings. "So we can make sure you know what you need to know. In Gryffindor, no one would have done anything like that, because they're too afraid of being seen as prejudiced. Then they end up making things worse for muggleborns when they have to go into the real world. Dad sometimes talks about muggleborns who start working at the ministry, and have no idea of how things work, and they have to spend ages getting them up to speed."

Harry thought this over for a second. He thought he understood what Daphne was saying, but it still left him feeling somewhat ill-at-ease. "I think I understand what you're saying," he started, resting the cutlery he had been using to feed himself during Daphne's long tirade. "It's true that I've had to pick up on things pretty quickly. I'm still not sure I agree. I mean, my mother was a muggleborn," he replied, frowning.

Daphne nodded, looking gravely respectful of Harry's loss. "Yeah, and if you had grown up in the magical world like you should have, wouldn't you have a lot less trouble adjusting?" She paused for a second while Harry chewed on this. "I don't think muggleborns are inferior, like Malfoy does. I do think that they don't understand a lot of things in our world and thus have a lot of problems adjusting and living up to their potential. Look at Granger," she went on, using her chin to point at the Gryffindor table, where the bushy-haired bookworm was eating next to a haggard-looking Neville Longbottom. "She does really well, but it's at the expense of spending all her time in the library. And she does a lot better than most muggleborns do. But her children will probably do a lot better and in one or two generations will probably be totally integrated." She shrugged. "It's just the way things are. I do think that those of us from old families have some sort of duty to help them understand things better, but the problem is that they often don't care about our culture." She stopped and looked at Harry sheepishly. "I guess I've been going on a bit of a rant," she said apologetically. "I've got Opinions," she added, "it's just that the topic never came up before. Plus, I was a bit worried about offending you," she finished, holding out her hands in a reassuring gesture.

Harry nodded, and deliberately took his time to chew on his food, as well as on his thoughts. When he finally spoke, he did so slowly and deliberately, "I'm not offended," he started, wanting to reassure his friend first. She had been honest with him, and he appreciated that. "I think I understand where you're coming from. I don't think I agree, but I think I get it." He paused. "I'm not sure I feel like talking about it right now, though. I need to think."

Daphne nodded. "Alright. I wasn't expecting to go on this rant, but you kind of drew it from me," she said, smiling. "Just don't go thinking I'm prejudiced," she finished.

Harry nodded. "Don't worry about it," he said with a smile. He wasn't so sure she wasn't, but if she was, hers was a sort of good-natured prejudice. She thought muggleborns needed purebloods to steward them, which was completely different from the things that Malfoy said or that Voldermort had done. So while he thought that Daphne didn't exactly view muggleborns as equals, her stance on the matter bothered him a lot less. He would try to talk to her about it sometime, but he did need to think her arguments through. Eating his pudding, he pondered his friend's hitherto unknown depths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who's left a review. Please continue to do so, and if you haven't so far, please consider doing so. I'm particularly keen to hear what worked for you, and what didn't.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the latest instalment. Once again, thanks to all reviewers, as well as everyone who favourited and/or followed!
> 
> There's an Easter Egg hidden in this chapter. The first reviewer to find it (if any) gets a cookie.

_Such is the fate of simple Bard,  
On life's rough ocean luckless starr'd!  
Unskilful he to note the card  
Of prudent lore,  
Till billows rage, and gales blow hard,  
And whelm him o'er'._

_Such fate to suffering worth is giv'n,  
Who long with wants and woes has striv'n,  
By human pride or cunning driv'n,  
To mis'rys brink,  
Till, wrench'd of ev'ry stay but Heav'n,  
He, ruin'd, sink!_

_Ev'n thou, who mourn'st the Daisy's fate,  
That fate is thine — no distant date;  
Stern Ruin's plough-share drives, elate,  
Full on thy bloom,  
Till crush'd beneath the furrow's weight,  
Shall be thy doom!_

_Robert Burns_

Harry and Daphne were walking away from the Great Hall, having just finished dinner. Harry felt well fed after a mentally exhausting day of revising Charms, which was not his favourite class; Daphne clearly enjoyed the subject much more than he did. She had given him some useful pointers, which he was sure she was expecting him to return when they covered Transfiguration; but that's what friends were for. He certainly didn't begrudge her the help, just as he hadn't to Pansy Parkinson, who hardly counted as a friend.

"Have you heard back from Ted?" she asked Harry, breaking the silence. They were not walking to the dungeons just yet, having chosen by unspoken agreement to wander around the castle for a bit; curfew was not for a few hours, and there was no special reason for them to go to the common room.

"Not yet," Harry replied, "but it's only been a couple of days. I was thinking of writing to him if I didn't hear back for another two days."

Daphne nodded. "I figured, but was just checking." She paused for a second, then, lowering her voice, finally asked, "Why can't he write, anyway? Does his father not like you?"

Harry looked around for a second, his face turning grave. When he had made sure there was no one around to overhear them, he replied in a whisper, grabbing Daphne's sleeve at the same time to pull her closer to him. "He probably doesn't, but I don't really know too much. I can tell you what I think, but I don't have a lot to go on." He paused after letting that sink in. "But first, why are you asking?" he asked, frowning and with a slightly wary edge to his voice.

Daphne raised her hands in mock surrender. "Don't you suspect me, Harry Potter. He's my friend too you know, despite what my dad says. I'm just worried about him."

Harry nodded slowly, weighing his words carefully before replying. "I guess that's fair enough. I worry about him too, but I don't really feel free enough to ask. I don't think he particularly wants to talk about it. Like I said, all I can tell you is what I've picked up on and kind of pieced together from loose things he's mentioned," he said.

Daphne nodded. "Yeah, that's fine, I promise I won't quote you on it," she said, unable to drop the slightly teasing tone, though her eyes told Harry she was serious, despite affecting unconcern.

This convinced him to expand a bit more. "I just don't think his father and him get along very well. You know his mother's dead?" he asked. Daphne nodded, and Harry went on. "He liked her very much, I think, and I get the feeling things got a lot worse for him since she died, though I can't tell you that for sure."

Daphne nodded again, this time adding some words to her gesture. "It's really his father that my dad doesn't like, not Ted, obviously, since he never met him. He just doesn't think the son will be any different from the father. I've never met the man, but he doesn't sound like a very pleasant character." Daphne looked around, again on the lookout for any indiscreet ears. The section of the castle they were on was quite empty, however, and there weren't even any paintings around, the occupants of all of the few frames lining the walls absent, likely visiting other paintings in more interesting parts of the castle. Finally convinced there was no one to hear them, Daphne lowered her voice to a whisper and drew closer to Harry. "I know Ted told you about his father being tried for being a Death Eater ten years ago," she shot quickly, her eyes darting around looking for anyone who might suddenly appear to overhear them, as Harry blinked in surprise. After that, she moved slightly apart again, and spoke in a more normal tone. "That's really why my dad doesn't like him, or want me to be Ted's friend," she went on.

Harry had been surprised to hear this, but composed himself after a few seconds, finally interrupting Daphne. "He did," he replied nodding, "and he was acquitted," Harry went on. Of course, Ted had actually said his father _had_ been a Death Eater, but he wasn't about to say any such thing. For one thing, it wasn't his secret to tell.

Daphne frowned at this. "Yes, because he claimed he was under the Imperius Curse. I don't know if my dad believes that. He wouldn't say it in so many words, but..."

Harry interrupted again. "Even _if_ Mr. Nott really was a Death Eater, I wouldn't hold it against Ted. You've said it yourself, he doesn't even really get along with his father very well." Harry's voice was rising to what was probably an imprudent level, but he wondered what Daphne was up to. "He's the first friend I've made here, and I'm not going to abandon him just because of what some people think his father might have done."

Daphne again raised her hands, this time without even a hint of teasing in her demeanour. "I'm not telling you to. I wouldn't have brought it up at all if I hadn't talked about it with him first," she urged, turning around to face him and stopping on the spot.

Harry nodded, somewhat mollified. Sometimes he forgot that his friends had a life when he wasn't present, which was really very egocentric of him.

Daphne must have noticed the change in Harry's expression, for she relaxed visibly before speaking again. "And the only reason I brought it up with him is because I was worried about you. He can be a bit hard to read sometimes, but I think he understood."

Harry nodded at this. He supposed that given his history with Voldemort, Daphne's concerns were understandable. "Fair enough," he said, and started walking down the deserted hallway again, motioning for Daphne to follow. As she caught up to him, Harry went on. "Still though, you checked it with him. Why are you bringing it up with me now?" he asked.

"I just wanted to come clean about why my dad doesn't like Mr. Nott. I mean, Ted's figured it out, but I wasn't sure you realized that was the reason. His trial was publicly known, after all."

Harry had been wondering about that. Of course, it wasn't surprising that Harry didn't know, but how many people _did_ know? "So do most people know that?" he asked Daphne. "I mean, most people our age, here in Hogwarts."

"In Slytherin? Probably a lot, certainly the older years. Of course, they also know about Malfoy's dad, but he got through it with a lot less damage to his social standing," she explained. "Some people in other houses will probably know too, but not as many I would imagine. It's not something a lot of people like to talk about, especially with their children. Our world seems quite ready to forget all about what happened in the war and pretend it never happened," she said, becoming more serious than before. Harry wondered about that for a second, but quickly his original worry resurfaced. "Does everybody think I'm gullible for being his friend?" he asked, chagrin showing on his voice.

Daphne looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Some people probably do. Most people probably don't really care. Those in Slytherin who lean that way," she went on, the reference being quite obvious, "probably think that your being his friend means that you have sympathies that way too. Has anyone ever said anything to you along those lines?"

Harry shook his head, suddenly looking troubled. "No one has. Though you may have something there," he replied thoughtfully. "That would explain why Malfoy feels to free to rant about muggleborns, even though he knows my mum was one." He shrugged. "It might also explain why no one has ever given me any trouble about _me_ being a half-blood," he finished, punctuating his statement with a sigh.

Daphne was nodding vigorously. "There's something in that, though even people who hate muggleborns don't have much of a problem with half-bloods. Except the really crazy ones..."

Harry smiled at this. "Like Ted's grandfather?" he said, sure Daphne would know what he was talking about.

"Oh, so you know about that too?" she asked, looking impressed. "Indeed, like him. The big difference is that half-bloods generally grow up in our world, and also that their parents are wizards, so they're seen as more 'legitimate' users of magic," she said, making air quotes. "Anyway, most people outside Slytherin probably think you're evil just for being here, so who you're friends with probably wouldn't change their minds anyway," she finished, and Harry could tell she was only half joking.

He sighed. Life was so complicated sometimes. Sometimes he wondered what things would have been like if he had been sorted into Gryffindor instead. Would he have been going around with Ron Weasley acting all holier-than-thou and thinking all Slytherins were evil gits? He shuddered at the thought. That was probably a simpler way of looking at the world, but when had his life ever been simple? He wouldn't change Slytherin house for any other, despite the occasional challenges. "Well, can't do anything about that, I don't think." He sighed again, and went on. "I guess we got a bit sidetracked. We were talking about Ted's father."

Daphne seemed to shake herself. "Oh yeah," she replied. "We need to stop going on these tangents," she said with a grin. "I guess I get it now, it's pretty much what I was thinking. I suppose we're even, in that my dad doesn't want me to be friends with Ted either." She shook her head. "Not that that's going to stop me, and I think he knows that."

"He probably knows you're too stubborn for that," Harry joked. Daphne didn't look the slightest bit embarrassed. After a few moments of walking in silence, Harry suddenly had a thought occur to him. "What does your dad think of _me_ ," he asked. "Does he not like me either?"

Daphne raised her eyebrow at this. "I was wondering if you were going to ask," she replied with a grin. "He doesn't really think a lot. He never knew your parents, as they were quite a bit younger than him. And what he knows about you yourself is either what everyone knows, which isn't much, and what I told him, which is of course all praise."

Harry laughed at this, soon joined by Daphne. "Seriously though," she continued, after the laughter had died down, "he doesn't have any objection to my being friends with you, if that's what you're asking. He did wonder if you might be disliked in Slytherin, and that I might suffer as a result, but people seem to leave you alone, whether they like you or not." She shrugged. "At any rate, I'm not that concerned with popularity," she finished with a grin.

Harry smiled in response. "Well, that's good to know at least. Though I guess they wouldn't have invited me to stay over if they had a problem with me."

Daphne nodded at this. "I've written home to ask about that, by the way," she informed him. "Haven't heard back yet, but it was just yesterday."

"Thanks," Harry said. "I'm the friend your parents don't hate. That's the best thing anyone's ever said about me," he went on, holding down the smile that was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Daphne laughed out loud, and punched him in the arm. "You prat." As Harry rubbed the punched area, pretending it hurt a lot more than it actually did, Daphne continued, "Like I said, I don't think it will be any problem."

Harry made agreeing murmurs, as they turned the corner into another long hallway. They fell silent as they spotted another student at the far opposite end; while they couldn't make out his features in the dim sunlight that graced the windows in that part of the castle, Harry could tell he was a Ravenclaw upperclassman, who stood facing the wall and examining a portrait with minute attention. The steps of the two Slytherins startled the older student, who had obviously been lost in his examination. When he turned and looked down the hallway in their direction, Harry recognized his Prefect co-conspirator, Alex Campbell.

"Potter," he shouted in his distinctive highland lilt. Before Harry had time to reply, Campbell set off down the hallway to meet him.

Next to him, Harry spotted Daphne's quizzical look out of the corner of his eye. Having kept his pace, he met the older boy about halfway. "This is Daphne Greengrass," he said, leaning his head in her direction. "Daphne, that's Alex Campbell."

"Delighted, I'm sure," Daphne replied, with a clear whiff of sarcasm.

Campbell grinned. "I see you've already learned to distrust the prefects. That attitude will serve you well," he said in an amused tone that seemed to win Daphne over, and she grinned at the Ravenclaw's banter.

"Campbell and I had a run-in with the Weasley twins a while ago," Harry explained to Daphne, whom he could tell was still wondering how Harry knew the prefect.

"That's right," the Scotsman replied, his voice losing some of its mirth as he was reminded of the event, though he shot Harry a grateful look; Harry had made sure to avoid any mention of Campbell's less than stellar performance at the time.

Daphne had raised her eyebrow inquiringly at this, while her mouth curled in a grimace of distaste. "Oh, those idiots," she said. "Why can't you Prefects do something about them? They're really getting out of hand lately," she went on, distaste dripping from her voice. "They ambushed a group of our second years last week, it was pretty ghastly..." she trailed, while Harry grimaced at the recollection. The four second years had been covered with painful looking, Gryffindor red and gold blotches on their skin, and if Harry's opinion of the Gryffindor pranksters could possibly have got any lower, it would have.

Campbell grimaced at this. "Linton was quite annoyed about it at the Prefect's meeting," he recounted.

"I didn't know he cared," Daphne replied, holding back a small chuckle.

Campbell grinned at this. "Oh he cares, but he doesn't like to mollycoddle you wee'uns. Don't tell him I said this," he added, to the laugh of the two Slytherins. "Anyway, it's really the Gryffindor Prefects' responsibility," he continued, "but of course their brother is one of them, so what do you expect? He acts all bothered and says he's going to set them straight, but of course they all act as if nothing happened." He shrugged. "McGonagall has a soft spot for them, and that's the real problem."

Daphne clucked her tongue in annoyance.

"I didn't know they annoyed you that much," Harry told her.

"Remember what they did to you and Ted?" she asked him, her voice rising. "That's not just a harmless prank, you two ended up in the hospital wing! And all that just because they hate Slytherins. Fortunately I've never had any troubles with them, but if I did..." Daphne said darkly, fingering the handle of her wand.

Harry exchanged a quick look with Campbell, who gave him the slightest nod. He hoped the older boy had really got his meaning. He turned to Daphne and grabbed her arm to pull her closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. It was amazing how often he found himself whispering these days. "Actually Daphne, we _are_ working something out," he said with a conspiratorial grin.

Campbell himself was smiling predatorily, which looked slightly out of place on his slightly pudgy face. Daphne looked between the two boys with an interested expression. "Oh?" she said. "What do you mean? I'm guessing this is not through your powers as Prefect..."

Campbell and Harry grinned, and the former looked around. "We shouldn't probably be talking about this in the middle of the hallway," he said. "Come on, follow me," he continued, turning on his heels and motioning the two Slytherins down the hallway, in the direction they had been heading towards to begin with. Harry nodded at Daphne to indicate they could trust the Ravenclaw, and they followed him a way down the hallway, then turning into a secluded corridor which gave way to what had to be a storage room. It was filled with what looked like old supplies for various classes, broken and melted cauldrons, bent spades and cracked plant pots, snuff boxes which, judging by their appearances, had to have suffered horrible Transfiguration blunders, all piled haphazardly in corners, lining the walls, and in shelves. A fine layer of dust covered them, suggesting the place had not been disturbed for some time. Campbell locked the door behind him and performed a couple of spells on it, his brow creased in concentration.

"How come you don't say the spells out loud," Harry had to ask, once the older boy was finished. He had been paying close attention to his activity, trying to figure out what spells he was using to secure the door, and he hadn't seen him move his lips at all, which Harry had found quite frustrating.

Campbell grimaced. "Nonverbal casting," he explained. "We start learning it in sixth year. It's really hard, you basically have to re-learn everything about spell casting again. I'm trying to do as much as possible wordlessly to get as much practice as I can. But I used the Locking Spell, which you'll know about by know, and the Imperturbable Charm. Quite a handy bit of magic that one, makes a barrier around the door and prevents anyone from eavesdropping. It's quite advanced material, but I know a few younger years are learning how to cast it. Of course, they're Ravenclaws, so it's kind of expected," he finished, giving Harry a wink.

Harry smiled, while he could hear Daphne clucking her tongue in annoyance again. Of course Campbell was a Ravenclaw, and his instincts over the value of knowledge and its sharing would override any sense of his duty as a Prefect. Harry could think of much mischief he could get up to with the knowledge of such a charm, but then again Harry wasn't the kind to get into mischief unless there was a very good reason to do so, which, he reasoned, was probably why Campbell was letting him know about the charm in the first place. He made a mental note to look up the Charms textbooks for later years in the library.

During this exchange, Daphne had been looking around at the dust covered piles of junk with her nose wrinkled in distaste. "What's all this junk?" she finally asked, prompted by a look at a particularly ghastly Transfiguration mishap, where a snuff box had been half turned into the form of a turtle, but without gaining any animal flesh. This metallic turtle had its mouth frozen open in a silent cry of pain, which forced Harry to look away with a grimace.

Campbell looked at it with a grimace, and quickly brought his wand out again, and with a murmured " _Evanesco_ ," made the box disappear. "What a ghastly piece," he said, pocketing his wand. "Couldn't even focus on making the spell non-verbal." He shook his head, then turned to face Daphne. "I don't really know. I just stumbled across it one day. I think at some point they used this to store refuse from classroom work, and then they just stopped using it but never bothered to do anything with what was here. I find it a bit hard to believe that they just forgot about it, but that _is_ what it looks like," he explained in an uncertain tone.

Daphne nodded. "Wouldn't surprise me if Dumbledore had just left it around to put students off sneaking into unused classrooms," she said slowly.

Harry laughed. "It does sound like the kind of thing he would do," he added with a chuckle. There were a few three-legged stools off to one side, and Harry grabbed one. Daphne soon followed, and finally Campbell extended his wand again, and having regained the composure to cast wordless spells, silently Summoned a stool for himself, taking a seat as well.

Before Campbell said anything, Harry spoke up. "I've been talking with Campbell here for a while now," he started. "You complain about my being secretive, but we've been brewing something for a couple of months now and as far as I know, no one has any idea about it. I think that counts as success," he said, grinning at Daphne.

She nodded, visibly perking her ears up to listen. The implication that she was being let in on the secret was not lost on her, for she looked quite enthusiastic.

Campbell took over the explanation. "Both Harry and I have quite good reasons to dislike those twins. Me being a Prefect, it especially grates on me how much they're able to flout our authority and get away with it."

Harry took over again, holding Daphne's rapt attention. "We decided that if there was no way to bring them to account through 'legitimate' ways, that we would have to bend the rules slightly to do it," he explained.

Daphne actually guffawed at this. "A Prefect bending the rules? Say it ain't so?!"

Campbell grinned at this. "We're not all pompous bores like Percy Weasley, you know," he told her. "Your own Linton is not exactly a choir boy. Don't know why Snape made him Prefect, to be honest. Maybe that's his idea of a joke..."

Daphne laughed at this, and Harry had to join in. He hadn't seen a lot of the fifth year Slytherin prefect through the year, but even when he had first seen him at the start of the year he had struck Harry as a very odd choice for an authority figure. Apparently he wasn't the only one who thought so.

"Anyway," Harry continued, his laughter quickly ceasing, "we have been meeting every so often to discuss this. We think we've got a pretty good idea for what to do. We just haven't had a lot of time to do it," he continued explaining.

"Sixth year work is just crazy," Campbell explained, and even you wee firsties are getting it heavier now. But now that it's Easter hols, and we're all staying here..." he trailed.

"It's the perfect occasion," Harry picked up. "The thing is, we've thought our plan through pretty thoroughly, and it would be a lot easier to accomplish if we had a third person to help us," he elaborated, looking at Daphne trying to convey what he hoped was a pretty obvious hint. "I knew Ted would be back home for hols, so I knew he couldn't be it. And I didn't really know how you felt about the Weasley twins, so I kept mum about that. But when you offered your opinion..."

Daphne raised her eyebrow at him, and Harry knew he wasn't going to get away with brushing his silence on this issue away like this. Still, she must have opted to address the issue when they were alone, for instead she turned her face to look at Campbell, and then again at Harry, smirking in a slightly scary way as she did so. Harry wasn't used to seeing such an expression on his friend's face, and he found it vaguely disturbing, but then again, he wasn't its target, the Weasley twins were. "I'm guessing you want me to be this third person?" she asked, and Harry thought he wasn't wrong in thinking that she actually looked quite pleased about it.

Both Campbell and Harry nodded at her question, and she beamed at Harry as a result. "Well, I guess I have to hear what you have in mind before saying yes or no," she replied, sounding a note of caution despite her obvious eagerness, "but in principle I'm quite happy to help." After a small pause, she added, "As long as you make sure we don't get caught."

Campbell nodded. "Of course, we're being very careful. I'm a Prefect, after all; I can't be seen to take part in breaking the rules!" he exclaimed vehemently.

"Alright, let's hear it," Daphne replied, leaning forward on her stool while hugging her legs, preparing to listen. "Let me be the judge of how careful you're being."

They told her the plan, with Harry and Campbell taking turns explaining each other's role, as well as Daphne's. She listened intently throughout, occasionally asking a question to clarify her role. Once the exposition was over, she turned to Campbell. "It seems you're the person who's taking the least risks in the whole thing," she accused.

Campbell had the decency to look slightly chagrined, but Harry interjected. "We've been over this, and it's the only way. Not only is he the one who's got the more to lose, he's the Prefect, and so the only one who can pull off that part."

Daphne nodded. "I suppose you're right. Besides, _you_ seem to take the most risk in this whole enterprise," she said, pointing an accusing finger at Harry, ending up by reaching out to him and poking him in the chest. "Honestly, Harry, sometimes I don't understand how you weren't put in Gryffindor," she said, shaking her head, though her small grin did enough to convey she wasn't serious.

Harry shuddered in an exaggerated manner, though the feeling behind it was certainly real. "Don't even joke about that," he replied. "If I had, I'd probably be thinking the Weasley twins were just some sort of misunderstood light-hearted pranksters, instead of the bullying buffoons they actually are." He shook his head. "Anyway, what do you think? Are you game or not?"

Daphne nodded with a grin. "Oh, I'm totally game," she replied eagerly. "I'm really looking forward to seeing the look on their faces once the whole thing is done. That's actually a pretty good plan, I think. You're not trying to be too clever."

Harry look slightly bashful as Campbell grinned. "I'm afraid most of the credit goes to Potter here," he said, leaning his head towards him. "He came up with the original idea, we just polished it a little bit together. I'm guessing the Hat must have picked up on how canny he is," he finished.

"Quite," Harry replied, blinking, eliciting a small chuckle from Daphne.

"It certainly wasn't his sense of preservation," she said, to which it was Campbell's turn to laugh.

As he did do, he gave his watch a quick glance. "Oh, but I must be going," he murmured, more to himself than the two Slytherins. "Becky will kill me if I'm late again," he added. Harry wasn't sure if he meant to address them with that either, but he quickly look up at them and regained a bit of his composure. "Right, you two arrange the details on your side, and when you've done so, owl me the final plan," he said, facing Harry as he said the last few words. "But hurry, we should do this before hols are over."

Harry and Daphne nodded their agreement, at which the Ravenclaw, looking grateful, replied in parting, "Great, I'm off now. Ta-ra," and was off at a quick trot, again glancing at his watch.

Harry and Daphne looked at each other and laughed. "Poor Becky," Daphne said, shaking her head, "her boyfriend is too busy conspiring with first years to snog her."

Harry laughed at this, though Daphne's words also drew a small flush to his cheeks. Noticing this, Daphne laughed even harder. "Oh, Harry, you're such a prude," she told him between laughs, and Harry flushed even more. It was true that such things weren't talked about at the Dursley household, and he wondered if he would have felt as ill at ease discussing the subject if he had gone to muggle secondary school instead. Probably, but he doubted anyone would have bothered to talk about it with him if he had worn the uniform Aunt Petunia had planned on foisting on him.

While Harry was pondering this, Daphne had turned serious again. "That Ravenclaw is quite good at nonverbal magic. I don't think most people his age can manage those kinds of spells on their head. Very impressive, especially for a muggleborn."

Harry blinked at this. He was vaguely annoyed by Daphne's low expectations of muggleborns, but as he hadn't yet been able to come up with a rejoinder to their last conversation on the topic, he decided to let it drop. "How do you know he's muggleborn?" he asked instead, as he had no idea of the Ravenclaw prefect's background until Daphne had just mentioned it.

She gave him a vaguely pitying look and rolled her eyes. "Boys," she said, shaking her head with a grin. "Never notice anything." At Harry's still puzzled look, Daphne explained. "He was wearing _very_ muggle trainers," she explained. "It _is_ quite hard to tell things like this at Hogwarts, where we all have to wear the same uniform. But no one really bothers to prescribe things that go _under_ the robes, so that's generally a pretty good way to make an educated guess. Of course, that's often shoes," she finished.

Harry was nodding at this, then realized quite self-consciously. "I'm wearing trainers," he said, lifting his foot from the floor and gingerly examining Dudley's half disintegrated old cast-offs.

Daphne cast a critical glance at them, but fortunately didn't make any comments on their state. "That's why I said an educated guess. Someone can be a half-blood with a muggle parent who wears muggle clothes sometimes, or just someone who really fancies muggle clothing for some reason. Or a muggleborn might try to blend in. But it helps. Of course, girls are more likely to notice this kind of thing," she finished with a superior smirk.

Harry knew better than to get drawn into a battle of the sexes with Daphne, though, so he just nodded pensively. After a few seconds, Daphne added "Of course, everyone knows who you are, so I doubt you'll be getting confused for a muggleborn any time soon," she explained with a grin, at which Harry nodded in reply.

Sensing his discomfort with the subject, Daphne changed tracks. "That plan was rather well thought-out of you. And here I was all this time thinking you were going to let the Weasley twins get away with that they'd done." She shrugged. "Not that I'd blame you if you had, they are both pretty good wizards when they can be bothered, and they're two years ahead of us."

Harry nodded. "I know. But I just couldn't let them get away with that kind of crap. It sends a very bad message to people, as I'm sure you were thinking yourself." At Daphne's nod in response, he went on. "I had been thinking of a way to get back at them, and when I had the chance to help Campbell after he was the victim of one of their inane pranks, I had this really great idea. We did come to realize it would work better with three people, though then we both got so busy we couldn't do much about finding the extra person..."

"So is that what you've been doing when you've been 'studying'?" Daphne asked, looking and sounding quite eager. "I've been wondering what you're up to all this time; I was pretty sure you were doing something secret, but I wasn't sure if I should ask..." she trailed.

She sounded quite wrought about the whole thing, and Harry felt a pang of guilt at excluding her from the research activities he had discussed with Ted. Originally, he hadn't been sure whether to trust Daphne with them, at least not in the way he trusted Ted. And even though he had a feeling he knew her better now, he didn't know how or whether to start initiating her into his secrets. "One of them, yeah," he said with a slight grimace, trying to sound nonchalant.

He must have conveyed enough of his reluctance, for Daphne seemed to let the issue drop, though he could tell she would like to know more. They sat in silence for a while, until she finally spoke. "Are you going to use your Invisibility Cloak for your part of the plan? I noticed that that Ravenclaw didn't really seem to understand how you could possibly be so confident in getting it done."

Harry grinned at her. "Yes," he replied. "Of course, I don't want a Prefect knowing about my having something like that, so he'll just have to trust me."

She grinned back at Harry. "You and your secrets," she said, shaking her head.

Harry had looked somewhat abashed at this. "You keep going on at me about that, but I'm the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Get-Sorted-Into-Slytherin. I can't afford to let the whole school know about what I'm up to." He rose from his stool and walked up to Daphne, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Is there something you want to know?" he asked, figuring he might as well grab the bull by the horns. He was dealing with a friend, after all. "The worst thing that can happen is I won't tell you," he said with a grin, "but I won't lie to you, and I definitely won't hold your asking against you."

She looked up at him and gave him a small nod. He could see the wheels turning in Daphne's head as she tried to figure out the best place to start. She had just begun to open her mouth to speak when a loud noise behind them caused Harry to quickly jump back, facing the door. He was met with the most unwelcome sight of Filch, who was carrying an empty basket, and his guard cat, Mrs. Norris. They looked as dishevelled and miserable as ever, but they had managed to catch him quite off his guard, which had him quite frazzled.

The caretaker himself was gazing alternately at the two of them, his beady eyes in a frown of suspicion. "Now what are you two up to? Aren't you a little too young to be getting up to this sort of thing?" he asked in his horrible raspy voice.

Harry took a few seconds to realize what the horrible man meant, but when he did he felt himself go redder than he thought possible. It was little consolation that for once Daphne looked as flustered as he did, rather than being her usual glib self who was normally the one making this kind of remark. "We're not doing anything!" Harry said in what he would have to concede was an almost hysterical tone.

Filch looked between them again before setting his basket on the floor below a shelf that was full of damaged cauldrons. "Well, whatever it is you're not doing, go don't do it somewhere else," he told them curtly. "I've got some real work to be doing and I can't have you kids mucking about."

They didn't need to be told twice, and were out the door faster than Mrs. Norris could set foot into the basket. They ran down the castle's hallways to the dungeons, and only stopped once they were in the common room. Once there, they could safely attribute their flustered condition to having ran the entire way, and at any rate, there was only a handful of older students inside at the time, none of whom seemed to be very interested in what two first years were doing.

Daphne seemed to have recovered from their encounter with Filch faster than Harry had, for she gave him a coy grin again, as if trying to gauge his mood. Harry collapsed on one of the many common room sofas and buried his head on his hands. After running them through his hair, making it, if possible, even messier than it usually was, he gave a loud sigh and looked up at Daphne again, who had been watching him with a bemused look. "Come on Harry," she said, looking much less chagrined than Harry felt. "It was a _bit_ funny," she added with a grin.

Harry groaned. "Why would he think..." he started.

"He's probably stumbled into loads of people snogging," she explained. "He just probably assumes that whenever he stumbles into a girl and a boy alone. Let's face it, we did look pretty suspicious," she added with a laugh. "It's probably better that he thought we were snogging—and seriously, I'm twelve years old—than that he knew what we were actually doing, don't you think?"

Harry grinned at this. "Alright, you win Daphne," he said, raising his hands. After a moment, he added, his grin intensifying. "It is actually kind of funny thinking about it now," he said, "but it was really embarrassing at the time."

"In a few years time, you'll be looking back at this and wishing things were that easy," she said with a wink. "I'll see you at dinner," she finished, turning around and leaving him utterly flabbergasted. Girls...

That night Harry lay on his bed, thinking over his meeting with Alex Campbell. He had been really impressed with his ability to cast spells without speaking a word. Of course, it now occurred to him that he very rarely heard his professors actually speaking the incantations when they were casting magic for their own purposes, rather than demonstrating for them. Still, he must have just assumed they were whispering it as he himself often did, rather than just thinking it; in reality, it was more likely that he just hadn't given it any thought.

Now that he knew that was possible though, the elegance of the whole thing fascinated him. It just looked so much more natural and relaxed to point a wand at something and command it with your thoughts than having to mumble dog-Latin to accomplish your purposes. And while Campbell's nonverbal casting had seemed to take quite a toll on him, he himself had said he was quite new to the whole practice and was forcing himself to do it all the time as a form of exam preparation, which was quite thoughtful; the school professors didn't seem to put any more effort into their non-verbal spell casting than the average fifth year did into a straightforward verbal spell, so Harry figured it was more like building muscle memory.

Harry turned aside and faced the bedside table, where his wand lay resting against his glasses. _This almost certainly isn't going to work_ , he thought, but he was curious enough to try. Besides, Blaise was the only other occupant of the room, and his steady breathing a few beds away told Harry he was fast asleep.

Slowly, Harry reached for his wand, his hand being guided more by instinct and his memory of the general layout than by his vision. Once he hand a firm grip on it, he lay back on the bed facing the ceiling, his wand firmly pointed at it. He searched his mind for the easiest spell he could think of, and the answer was obvious. Summoning as much concentration as he could, he sounded the magical word clearly in his mind, _Lumos_. He waited a couple of seconds, then looked down at his wand. Despite the result being expected, he wasn't able to completely suppress some dejection: the tip of his wand was completely lacking in light.

Harry sighed. He knew non-verbal magic was sixth year material, so he couldn't possibly expect to get it right on the first try. He decided to try again, this time even visualising the letters off the magical word on his mind. _LUMOS_ , he 'shouted' internally, making sure he kept his lips closed. Despite feeling like he had focused much harder on the word, trying to enunciate it as carefully as he could in his mind, he was still surrounded by complete darkness. After a couple more futile tries, he had to cast the spell verbally to reassure himself that he hadn't lost his magic, which was quite ridiculous if he thought about it.

Once he had confirmed that, once spoken out loud, even in a low whisper, the spell did work as expected, Harry frowned and laid his head heavily back on the pillow. He was feeling quite frustrated. While he struggled with learning how to cast some spells now and then, this was on a whole different level. It felt like he was banging his head against a brick wall and could only succeed in hurting his head. He couldn't feel himself getting any closer to making it work, and this was the simplest spell he knew. He shuddered to think what it would be like to try it with some more advanced magic. He gained a new respect for Alex Campbell. If he could perform the kinds of charms he had seen him do wordlessly, he had to be very skilled.

That reminded Harry that he should look up the Imperturbable Charm. After making a mental note to look that up in the library, he tried a few more times to cast _Lumos_ silently, which bore no fruit but a splitting headache. With a groan, Harry deposited his wand back on the bedside table and, turning on his bed, decided to go to sleep. After dealing with the twins, he'd read up on silent casting. He might not be able to perform very complicated pieces of magic, but he _would_ manage to cast the Wand-Lighting Charm. His headache didn't stop him from falling asleep quickly, but his sleep was restless and populated by poorly-remembered dreams of horror.

* * *

It was the big day. Thanks to owl post, it was easy to plan the logistics of pranks without ever meeting your co-conspirators in person, so things had gone without a hitch. Harry and Campbell were as certain as possible that no one, and certainly not the twins or any student in the Gryffindor terrors' circle of friends, had any idea of what was planned.

After their last meeting with Campbell, Harry and Daphne's slow revision sessions had been tempered with a solid dose of mischief planning. They both wanted to make sure everything went according to plan, and managed to inflict the maximum amount of Weasley damage for the least amount of danger to themselves. They knew Alex Campbell could take care of himself, and at any rate his role was a lot less risky than theirs.

The hours until the appointed time passed excruciatingly slowly. They had tried to study, but found they were unable to concentrate on the work. Eventually, they ended up practising simple hexes and jinxes on each other, as that required very little concentration and at the same time allowed them to release some of the tension that was gripping them. They spent about an hour doing this, and after cancelling the effects of the spells on each other, they felt slightly less wound up, but quite out of breath.

Despite that, they did not eat much at dinner. They would need to be light on their feet in order to execute the plan optimally. Things would be set in motion immediately after dinner, so it was important to be ready to leave the table immediately after the twins did so. Harry reassuringly rubbed the fabric of his dad's Invisibility Cloak, which was safely tucked away in his robe's deepest pocket, ready to spring to action when needed. He was indulging in some of the local fare: a deep fried Mars Bar would provide him with all the energy he would need, and could be eaten relatively quickly. He decided to ignore the fact that he could feel his arteries clogging as he ate it: even a couple of weeks of summer at the Dursleys would be more than enough to repair any excesses, he thought darkly.

Daphne gave him a disgusted look over the loaf of bread she was wolfing down. Aunt Petunia would have had a fit over her table manners, which in fairness were generally much more polished. But this was a special occasion, and nerves were probably getting the better of her. Harry finished and looked for Alex Campbell at the Ravenclaw table, and when he found the other boy, saw that he looked quite calm, chatting to a brown haired witch whom he was sitting quite close to. Harry guessed that the witch was Becky, and that Campbell had managed to arrive at their rendezvous on time, preserving harmony. Despite looking quite absorbed on the conversation, he must also have eaten very little, for his plate was empty, and his eyes occasionally scanned the Gryffindor table, where the twins were still eating, blissfully ignorant of what was being planned.

After a few minutes, when the two Slytherins were reduced to trying to watch the Gryffindors as discreetly as possible, only taking a drink of water occasionally to justify their remaining at the table, the twins finally rose from the Gryffindor table. After jovially saying goodbye to their friends, who included the dread-locked boy who provided the biased commentary at Quidditch games, they were out of the Great Hall.

As soon as they had turned their backs, Harry caught Campbell's eye, who gave him a sharp nod. He and Daphne rose at once, and exited the Hall at a hurried pace, but short of running. They didn't want to raise any suspicions. As they left, out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Campbell himself rising and excusing himself to his girlfriend, but they couldn't linger to watch him. They would have to trust that the older boy would follow through.

They could see the twins off in the distance, going down the long hallway which led away from the Great Hall, without a care in the world. That was soon going to change. He looked at Daphne, hiding behind a conveniently placed suit of armour. "Ready?" he whispered at her.

She nodded, but before Harry would leave to start his part in the plan, she extracted something from within her robes. It was a small chamois pouch, the likes of which he had seen several of his classmates carry. If the others were anything to judge by, this one would be charmed to fit more inside it than was physically possible. This was confirmed as Daphne quickly whispered something in his ear. Harry looked at her quizzically.

"I'll explain later," she replied. "Just trust me."

Harry nodded, and quickly retrieved his Invisibility Cloak. "Alright," he contemporized. "Good luck with your end," he finished, pulling the Cloak over himself and disappearing from view.

"Good luck Harry," Daphne whispered as he did so. Soon Harry was running down the hallway, trying to be as silent as possible. After the agreed ten seconds, just as the twins were disappearing from view, he heard Daphne's clear voice echo in the clear hallway.

"Hey Weasleys!" she said, a cocky expression on her face that Harry rarely saw. "How's Ickle Ronnie? Still shitting himself?"

Harry grinned as he saw the twins stop dead in their tracks and turn around to face her. He had slowed down now, afraid his steps might be heard otherwise. The trickiest part would be getting ahead them unnoticed. If he could manage that, he was pretty confident in the rest of the plan.

"Oh look Fred, we've got us a little snake..." he heard one of them (George?) say, his expression not boding well. His heart started pounding, and he felt a pang of guilt for what could happen to Daphne, though she had been quite willing to take the risk. He _had_ to get this right. His friends were counting on him.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! Sorry for the cliffhanger. I did not set out to have one, but the chapter was getting a bit long, and there's no way I would have been able to fit the denouement within the usual length of my chapters.
> 
> The deep fried Mars bar is a real dish, born in an unknown corner of darkest Scotland. I wouldn't recommend regular consumption, but it's something you must experience at least once.
> 
> Needless to say, I love reviews! I would particularly like to know what worked for you, and what didn't. See you next chapter!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, it's me again. This chapter is slightly shorter than usual, because if I had included the next scene, it would have been too big. That said, it's here now. I hope you'll like it.
> 
> The Easter egg in the last chapter was Filch's line "Well, whatever it is you're not doing, go don't do it somewhere else," which is taken from the 1966 Z-Movie classic Manos: The Hands of Fate, where a Sheriff's deputy utters it to tell off a couple of teenagers making out in a deserted road in the middle of nowhere. The loving couple is thoroughly chastised, and drives the car 50 yards up the road, where they proceed to suck face again.

_O CURLEW, cry no more in the air,  
Or only to the water in the West;  
Because your crying brings to my mind  
passion-dimmed eyes and long heavy hair  
That was shaken out over my breast:  
There is enough evil in the crying of wind._

_W. B. Yeats_

Harry slowly moved ahead, doing his best to not make any noise. The twins seemed entirely focused on the Slytherin who had appeared out of nowhere to mock them about their brother. Their dislike for Slytherins was apparent in their expressions, as well as something slightly more personal. They had to know about Ron's incident, and probably weren't too happy that their brother had been humiliated in such a manner.

Daphne, meanwhile, was standing her ground, looking completely unfazed. She twirled a stray end of hair and eyed them disdainfully. "What are you going to do, hex me? That's really brave of two Gryffindor third years, hexing a lone first year," she replied, sounding disinterested. "I'm guessing cowardice runs in the family," she finished, twisting the verbal knife a bit further.

The two gingers were quite angered by the strike to their Gryffindor pride, and paid no mind to any sound Harry might possibly have made as he slipped past them in his invisibility cloak. Once he did so, he let out a sigh of relief, and, quickening his place slightly, made for the corner at the end of the corridor.

"You're one to talk, seeing as there were two of you Slytherin slime to one of him," one of the gingers said, looking torn between his obvious desire to hex Daphne, who was doing wonders at keeping her composed look, and the obvious fact she had pointed out: two third years outright hexing a firstie, as opposed to a prank, was hardly going to reflect well on them and their supposed Gryffindor bravery.

Daphne tutted. "I see that Ronnie is a bit economical with the truth. Doesn't surprise me, as he was hardly being a role model of Gryffindor virtue." At the twins' quizzical look, she added, "You should try asking Longbottom and Granger, who were with your brother, why they didn't lift a finger to help him. Then tell him he better still be behaving himself, because if I catch him taking advantage of anyone else like that, especially girls, I won't be as nice," she said, and in what Harry thought was quite a daring move, turned her back on the twins and slowly walked off.

As this happened, Harry had just finished a tricky manoeuvre with his invisibility cloak. He couldn't cast spells through it, yet the plan required him to use magic. He poked his wand out of the cloak, making sure nothing else was visible. He had tested this in front of a mirror, and he had managed to conceal himself entirely when his wand was withdrawn, but it was a completely different thing to do it when so much depended on his stealth.

Meanwhile the twins were looking at each other in confusion. Harry supposed that in some warped way that only made sense to them, they had some sort of honour code which their brother had violated, making himself deserving of being hexed by her. Their confusion was enough for Daphne to make her retreat unmolested.

Once she was out of their field of vision, Harry acted. He walked towards the bend in the hallway and hid himself behind it in such a way that he would be invisible to the twins even without his Cloak. Then he shoved his arm forwards so that it was outside the cloak and therefore visible, and, leaning into the corridor where the two gingers were still staring at each other, he threw a minor jinx in their direction. He made sure it would hit close enough to them that there wouldn't be any mistake about whom it was directed at, yet took care not to actually hit them, as that would defeat the entire point of the exercise.

Once the jinx flew, the twins were startled out of their staring context and looked behind them for the culprit. Harry deliberately took his sweet time to withdraw his arm, letting them see there was someone behind them. He took off at a run once he knew his arm had become invisible again, down the corridor, following the path he had memorized by now. He could hear the twins shouting behind him, yet knew they were not too close. Once he was safe behind a further bend, he leaned his body around the corner, his wand at the ready to cast a spell, waiting for the twins to appear at the other end.

His heart was racing in his chest as he finally saw them turn the corner. He'd started out worried about messing up, but in the heat of the moment all worries seemed to dissipate and he focused on putting into practice the plan he had rehearsed in his mind so many times, while walking along the same route he was about to follow. One more deliberately misaimed hex left Harry's wand towards the twins' end of the corridor, and then he was off again, the noises behind him telling him that the twins were getting angry at this unseen student throwing hexes at them, and were getting ready to retaliate in kind—which was just what he wanted.

He ran left up a spiral staircase, going as high as he could while still retaining a view of the corridor below. He soon heard the twins coming, and just as they passed under the staircase, threw a stinging hex down at them. He didn't wait to see whether they had noticed. If they hadn't, he would have to climb back down and go after them again, but he trusted his aim.

He ran up the stairs at a steady pace calculated to prevent him from becoming too winded. He wouldn't want his breathing to become so loud it gave him away. As he passed the second floor, he could hear the twins clambering up the stairs behind him. He rushed to get to the third floor and exited the staircase there, running behind a suit of armour which gave him a good view of the spiralling steps.

After a few seconds, the twins showed up, looking out of breath and uncertain of where they were going. This time he didn't bother making his arm visible, but instead was as inconspicuous as possible, allowing only the tip of his wand to poke out from under his Cloak. Once the twins' backs were turned, he cast another purposefully misaimed hex at them, sending it closer than any of his previous taunts.

He ran again. He was very close now. This chase repeated itself a once more, around a corridor bends where the twins would have to guess where Harry was going. Harry had to give it to them, they were surprisingly tenacious. If he was in their place, he would have started suspecting something after all those misses, but apparently the adrenaline was overriding the twins' more prudent side, if they had such a thing.

Finally, Harry had reached his goal. He positioned himself behind a tapestry and waited for the twins to arrive. While waiting, he looked around for Daphne, but could not spot her anywhere. He hoped she had made it in time for her second role, and was just hiding herself too well for him to spot in his quick scan.

"This bugger is a fast runner," he finally heard one of the twins say, between deep breaths which seemed to indicate they were not exactly in top form. Quiddich, the only sport wizards practised at school, didn't exactly require a lot of physical conditioning, as the broom did most of the work. As Beaters, their arms would have gained some bulk, but that wasn't very helpful when what was needed was stamina.

"We can't have lost him, I'm sure," Harry heard the other ginger reply. "The last hex came from this side." They stopped and looked around, noticing for the first time this section of the school was, while clean, devoid of signs of any recent student activity, not to mention any of the schools' ubiquitous paintings. Harry smirked to himself as he saw the two Gryffindors' eyes widen at the realization of where they were.

"Fred, is this the forbidden corridor?" George asked.

Harry was surprised the two troublemakers had never been in the corridor, but then again, he supposed Dumbledore's warning had been quite strongly worded. Which made Harry wonder about what had possessed Ted to go check it out anyways.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he started readying his wand. It was important that he did not miss now. He started to worry Daphne had not made it in time and the plan would fall through, but all of a sudden, he saw a jet of light zoom past and hit George, causing him to tumble down to the floor in sudden stiffness. Before he had even landed, Harry was whispering the spell " _Petrificus totalus_ ," aiming at Fred, who hesitated for a moment before trying to dive out of the way.

That moment's hesitation cost him, as the spell still managed to hit him, even if it was a near miss. This did not cause him to experience the full effect, but he was sufficiently incapacitated that Harry was able to cast the spell again, assured that the Gryffindor would be unable to escape or retaliate. The spell hit right on the ginger's body the second time, and soon he was lying on the floor, stiff as a board, next to his twin.

Harry wasted no time. Still covered by his Cloak, he moved towards the two Gryffindors, consulting his watch before doing so. Campbell shouldn't be long now if all had worked. He silently cursed the fact that there was no easy, non-Dark spell to block someone's vision; he had to resign himself to a muggle solution. He retrieved two pieces of black cloth from his robe and, with only a whisper, cast the Levitation Charm on one, hovering it right over one of the twins' faces. Then he cancelled the charm, dropping the cloth on top of one of the twins' eyes. After doing the same for the other, he judged they were then unable to see anything. He then lifted each one's head in turn, and tied the cloth behind their heads, forming a makeshift blindfold. Being sure that they would be blind to his doings, he started the harder part of the plan. He dragged them to the door behind which, he knew, Fluffy lay in waiting. It was still securely locked, and Harry could hear the vicious animal inside growling in a low, monotonous tone.

He pushed the two stiff bodies against the door, laying one on top of the other. Once that was done, he rifled through their robes looking for their wands, his hand covered in a large napkin he had stolen from the dinner table. He didn't know whether wizards knew about fingerprints, but there was no reason to be careless. After a frustrating search turned up nothing, Harry remembered the twins would have been holding their wands when he and Daphne had cast their spells at them, and would have probably dropped them.

A quick run back to the place where the gingers had originally fallen proved his theory to be correct. He returned with the two wands held in his napkin, which he laid near the twins' bodies, as if they had fallen from their hands in that place. According to the plan, that was all he was supposed to do, but Daphne had kept something till the last minute. Still slightly confused by her addition to the plan, he withdrew the chamois bag she had given him from within his robe's pocket. He quickly untied the string holding it closed, and proceeded to peer down at its contents.

As he expected, the bag was larger on the inside than it was on the outside. To his surprise and intense puzzlement, he found inside three very muggle, very rubbery, chew toys—shaped like a bone. He wondered if this was Daphne's idea of a joke. Regardless, he was going to trust her. At any rate, he didn't see how this addition could cause any damage to the plan. However, he was going to have her explain very thoroughly what all this was about.

Following her whispered instructions carefully, Harry tipped the bag down in order to empty it without touching its contents. He let them fall near each twins' hand, and then placed the bag itself in one of their hands.

As he prepared himself to leave, checking everything was alright, he noticed there was something vaguely off about the chew toys. He had seen them often enough, brought to Privet Drive by his horrible "Aunt" Marge, who he was very glad to say was no actual blood relation of his. She raised bulldogs, and brought her favourite, Ripper, with her whenever she stayed at Privet Drive. Harry hated the horrible thing almost as much as he hated Marge herself, but to keep it entertained, the latter often brought several kinds of dog toys, including very similar rubber bones. Harry couldn't tell what seemed wrong about them, but he was sure there was some reason for Daphne's advice not to touch the things.

Looking around and finding all in place, he cast the Body-Bind curse on the twins again for good measure, retrieved the makeshift blindfolds from their eyes, and hastily retreated from the corridor. Now it was up to Alex to fulfil his part of the plan. At least he had not arrived before Harry had been able to finish the setup, which would have been a serious problem, no less than for Harry himself.

As much as he would have liked to wait around to see the denouement, he knew it was better to be safely within the Slytherin common room when the shit hit the fan. He ran down the halls of Hogwarts, still invisible, occasionally dodging a student or two, though not many people were out and about at the late hour. Running down staircases, he finally reached the dungeons. Hiding himself behind a heavy tapestry, which depicted a mounted wizard doing battle with a group of goblins and covered a niche in the wall, he took off the cloak, and after folding it carefully, he stored it safely on his robes' inside pocket.

His heart still beating heavily from the excitement of having just seen his plan through to completion, he poked his head outside the tapestry. Not seeing anyone, he left its protection to return to the corridor, and nonchalantly made his way back to the common room. He hoped Daphne had also made it back safely. He still did not feel very sanguine about including her in the retribution plot, and while he was extremely curious about the chew toys, he was much more concerned about confirming she was safe.

" _Philadelphia_ ," Harry said once he reached the wall behind which the Slytherin common room lay. Once he spoke the password, the wall gave way to the entrance, and he stepped in. Though he tried not to be too obvious about it, he quickly scanned the room for Daphne.

He was extremely relieved to find her sitting by one of the ceiling windows which opened to the lake, next to a tall candlestick which lit up a book, which she was reading looking for all the world like she hadn't just been involved in shenanigans of the highest degree. She carefully turned a page as the entrance closed behind Harry, and gave him a very discreet wink, which made him feel like the weight of the world had been taken off his shoulders. He made his way to his dorms first, which were fortunately devoid of Blaise, the only other first year boy from Slytherin house who was staying for the Easter holidays. He ran to his trunk and put the Cloak safely back, hiding it at the bottom, under all his other things. After locking the trunk and taking a break for short ablutions, he was back in the common room, heading towards Daphne.

He took a seat next to her, who was still absorbed in her book. However, when Harry took his seat next to her, she closed it on her lap, and looked up at him with a smile that for the first time showed a nervous strain. "I've been sitting here pretending to read this book for ages," she whispered to him, suppressing a nervous giggle. Daphne wasn't the giggling type, so Harry could tell she was actually quite affected, despite her external composure.

He smiled, looking at the book's title for the first time. "You mean you aren't fascinated with Fifteenth Century goblin wars?" he asked, trying to give his voice a light-heartedness he did not really feel.

Daphne's reply came in the form of a hit with the book across Harry's arm, which he didn't mind half as much as he pretended. He was just glad she was safe and sound back in the common room.

"Did everything work out?" she finally asked in a low whisper, after a moment of silence where they both gathered their thoughts.

Harry nodded. "Nice aim, by the way. That's one of the things I was afraid of failing the most," he replied in the same tone.

Daphne grinned. "I thought our hexing practice session the other day had given you a taste of my aim," she replied, the tension leaving her form as she took in Harry's nod, demeanour and words.

Harry rested his head against the sofa, looking up through the windows at the dark water of the lake. "True, your aim was much better than I would have liked there," he said, looking down again to face her. "But there was a lot more riding on this one. You can't blame me for being nervous," he finished.

Daphne looked at him intently. "I suppose that's true." After a few seconds' pause, she went on, lowering her voice even further. "I don't suppose you know whether Campbell managed to do his bit?"

Harry shook his head. "Nope. I was tempted to stick around and find out, but in the end I stuck to the plan and came back here. It wouldn't have been fair for me to see it when you had to be here, and besides, I wanted to know if you'd made it out alright."

Daphne grinned. "I always knew you cared, Harry. I'm so touched," she joked, pretending to wipe tears from her eyes. Girl or not, Harry responded by hitting her with her own book, at which she just laughed, drawing the stares of some of the room's other occupants.

She regained her composure after that, and when all the attention was away from them once again, Harry turned towards her. "Are you going to explain the chew toys?" he asked, his voice once again a whisper that he hoped would have been inaudible to anyone trying to listen in—not that anyone looked like they were.

Daphne surprised him by flashing him a rather predatory grin, which he didn't see very often, but always found quite disturbing. "Yeah, that was one of my better ideas, if I say so myself," she started, sounding quite pleased with herself.

Harry allowed himself a skeptical frown, but didn't say anything.

Daphne took this as her clue to continue. "You probably won't know this, as there's no real reason for you to have bothered with it, but the Weasleys' father works at the Ministry of Magic. My dad talks about him sometimes. He works at the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office."

Harry blinked at this. "How do you misuse a muggle artefact?" he asked, puzzled.

Daphne grinned again. "In many ways, but the relevant one is that it is illegal to charm a muggle object to do things it's not supposed to do. This is to make sure that nothing happens to muggles in case the object winds up back among them," she explained.

A light bulb went lit up in Harry's head. "A muggle object... like a chew toy, you mean..." he trailed.

Daphne nodded with a smirk. "I knew you'd get there," she replied. "We know there's a three-headed dog behind that door, so what's more natural to give it than chew toys? Three in this case. It's exactly the sort of thing the twins would do," she explained enthusiastically.

"I suppose so," Harry replied, "but what's the point? Why wasn't the plan enough?"

"Do you really think that even getting a hefty detention, or getting points docked, would actually stop the twins for long?" she asked, getting slightly worked up. "I know they never got caught so red handed as they hopefully will be now, but I doubt it's going to have a lot of effect. They don't seem to have a lot of respect for the school authorities." After a pause, she went on, pounding the arm of her chair, "BUT, they will listen to their parents, because they care about their family's reputation, no matter how much they pretend they're not an old pureblood line," she went on disdainfully. "And their parents _will_ hear about this. Even though it's in Hogwarts grounds, and so the Ministry doesn't have jurisdiction, it's still quite a serious issue," she finished triumphantly.

Harry had to take a few seconds to fully process this. "Wow, I'm not sure whether to be impressed or terrified," he said, still somewhat at a loss for words.

"You should be glad I'm on your side," she replied with a grin and a wink.

Harry chuckled at this. "Oh, I am." Suddenly, a doubt popped up. "What are the chew toys charmed to do, anyway?" he asked Daphne.

"Oh, just Stun whoever touches them. It probably wouldn't work on 'Fluffy'; while I don't know much about three-headed dogs, I bet he's quite magic resistant, otherwise Quirrell would have had no trouble getting past it... whatever it was he was doing that one time."

Harry blinked again. He had been so busy with other things he had totally forgotten about Quirrell's suspicious behaviour. Still, Fluffy was obviously still standing guard behind the door, so obviously Quirrell had either not tried again, or failed.

Oblivious to Harry's musings, Daphne had gone on. "They were quite hard to get, especially at such a short notice. I had Campbell charm them. Wanted to make it a surprise for you, though," she explained, and while Harry wondered for a moment whether he should be angry, she looked genuinely apologetic. "Also, I thought it would be better if you didn't know exactly why you were laying them there. You're a bit too scrupulous sometimes, and might have thought that was too harsh." She held her hands out. "I hope you don't hold it against me."

Harry looked slightly conflicted. "Hmm, I suppose you might have a point there. Still, don't do something like this again. I don't particularly care about the twins, so I'm not that bothered by it, but if it was someone else I wouldn't be very happy." After a pause, during which Daphne looked ready to argue, Harry temporised. "Still, I suppose I involved you in the plan, so I shouldn't complain too much. It's not like you butted into something you didn't have any business with..." he trailed.

Daphne looked relieved at this. "I was actually surprised Campbell went along with it. You wouldn't think a prefect would be so keen to bend rules. The twins must have really wound him up."

Harry grinned and told Daphne the story of how he had first come to meet Alex. "So you see, his pride must have been quite hurt for being got by two third years. Must have driven him a bit over the edge, though I do get the feeling he wasn't exactly very careful with observing the rules even before that."

Daphne nodded, grinning at the mental image of the Ravenclaw prefect tumbling out of a cupboard. They spend the rest of the evening playing Exploding Snap, which Harry was rubbish at, but liked to play nonetheless, as he thoroughly enjoyed how magical it felt. They went to bed around midnight with a feeling of anticipation welling inside them.

The next day, neither the twins nor Professor McGonagall were at breakfast, Ron and Percy looked as dark as a storm cloud, and Alex Campbell was looking triumphantly radiant. He gave Harry and Daphne a discreet thumbs up as they arrived, but was soon dragged away from the table by the pretty brunette they assumed was his girlfriend. They would have to wait to hear the outcome of the previous day's hijinks.

* * *

_Dartmoor, Devon_

Ted Nott exited his bedroom, moving silently through the halls of his decrepit house. He did it not out of any particular need to be secretive—his father had just left for the evening, and he knew he was not likely to return any time soon; it was even possible he might spend the night away. He cared to know as little as possible of whatever it was the old man got up to in these semi-regular nightly excursions. A shudder went through him at the very thought.

No, it was just the habit of many years of having to move stealthily and silently around that lent that fleeting, tentative quality to his movements. It had almost become second nature by now. Avoiding a wooden board which he knew squeaked terribly at the lightest pressure placed upon it—no matter how many silencing charms were placed on it. That was the problem with houses held together by magic: magic didn't always work well for repairing them.

And the old house _was_ held together by magic, at least in parts. Most houses belonging to old magical families were, to a certain degree, as was Hogwarts. His own was only vaguely odd looking from the outside—to any magical observers, that is. Muggles would only see the rubble of an abandoned ruin.

He thought sadly that the muggle-repelling charms didn't exactly have a lot of work to do. While it certainly made things look much dramatic than they actually were, the house was bent in on itself, the roof leaked in places, though liberal application of waterproofing charms ensured that the leaks weren't as big a problem as they would have been for muggles. It was altogether an unpleasant sight from outside, and not much better on the inside.

" _There was a crooked man, and he walked a crooked mile.  
He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile.  
He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse,  
And they all lived together in a little crooked house,_" he sung to himself in a whisper. _A crooked man indeed_ , he thought, but dwelt no more upon it. Ted proceeded upon his usual path, down the stairs, turning left into the foyer and across it to the library. Opening its door, he smiled faintly at the familiar surroundings. Dust clung to most of the bookshelves, to say nothing of the books within them. There had not been a house elf to keep the place clean for years now, and his father did not concern himself too much with cleanliness, especially in this room, which he so rarely used.

It was for this reason that Theodore wasn't overly worried about what he was about to do. Navigating the narrow spaces left between the shelves skilfully, he headed to the very back of the room. One foreboding looking bookcase leaned against the wall there. Its wood was dark and aged, and it might have been there since the house was first built by his ancestors. _What would those Notts of long ago think of the current state of the building, not to mention the family_ , he wondered. He wouldn't blame them if they were spinning in their graves.

These thoughts of ancestors were probably put into his mind by the book he sought. Many of the books in that bookcase were not safe to handle—at least if one didn't know their secrets. And Ted, despite being the eventual sole heir to all of them, was not privy to many of them; most of those tomes would have been quite at home in Hogwarts' Restricted Section. But the book he sought this day was entirely safe to handle. Any corruption would come from its contents.

Slowly, he pulled _The Pureblood Directory_ out from its resting place. Once it rested safely in his hands, he retrieved a sheet of parchment from the pocket of his trousers. He did not wear robes at home—most wizard children did not. While his father was quite traditional, good wizard robes were much more expensive than the plain fare he was wearing. He laid the parchment on the place the book had been on, and pulling his wand out, cast a simple charm to push the rest of the books together and hide the hole in the row. Fortunately, any magic he cast would just be attributed to his father. Parents were supposed to police their children's use of magic, but his father usually didn't have time for laws of that sort. There were _some_ upsides to his father's negligent approach to parenting.

He quickly left the dark corner, venturing out into the better lit portion of the library, where he blew off the dust covering the book. Looking distastefully at the cloud which had formed ahead of him, he backed out of the library quickly and retreated again into his room. He laid the book on his desk, an old fashioned writing bureau, which was already open and filled to the brim with pieces of parchment, books, old quills, and assorted writing implements.

Ted took a seat, and lifted a heavy pile of parchment, retrieving from under it two letters. _I really need to learn how to disguise things by magic, rather than relying on mundane methods like this_ , he thought to himself. Shaking his head, he took a seat at the desk and started re-reading the missives. As he did so, a smile unconsciously touched his lips. He missed Harry and Daphne, more even than he missed Hogwarts and the relative freedom it provided him. He knew his friends had insisted he write to them, but he had never until now felt confident enough that he would be able to do so without the possibility of his father catching him at it—and were that to happen, he knew an interrogation would soon follow. He didn't feel like providing any explanations of the sort. But now, he finally had as much safety and privacy as he could reasonably expect, and he wasn't about to waste the chance.

He picked up a quill and two pieces of blank parchment, and started to write. He didn't have that much to say, his stay at home being quite uneventful, but he engaged with what his friends had said. He was heartened that Daphne had actually written to him herself: hopefully it meant she was not just tolerating his presence any more. He thought that was the case, but he was never sure, and confirmation was welcome. The Greengrasses didn't exactly move in the same social circles as his family.

With a sigh, he moved to the next letter, where he was a bit more expansive. He _had_ known Harry for longer, and, he thought, knew him better as well. He wondered whether Daphne had actually got to talk Harry what his secret research was all about. While in a way it was nice to be the only one to know the secret—not having had any close friends growing up, he liked being in Harry's close confidence—he knew that that wasn't really something that could hold in the long run. Daphne had become a part of their 'gang', and she probably should be inducted into their secrets. As they were Harry's secrets, though, it was Harry's decision. Nevertheless, he didn't know if he himself felt ready to reveal to her the dark family secret he had shared with Harry. Not to mention, darker things that he had not told even Harry.

Shaking his head to clear it of the dark thoughts, he finished the second missive, and signed it. He sealed Daphne's, and was about to seal Harry's, when he remembered to add a post-script:

_PS: I have what you asked for._

He eyed the still-dusty tome with distaste, sealed Harry's letter as well, and moved towards the window, where his owl rested contently on its perch. He softly petted its head, before tying the two rolls of parchment to its leg. "Take these to Harry and Daphne at Hogwarts, please Malcom," he spoke softly to the owl, which hooted in response. Ted was never sure just how much Malcom was able to understand of what he said, but continued, "Wait around for a couple of days to see if they have any letters to send back," he said, having asked his friends in the letters to send replies back with his own owl. Malcom knew how to ensure that his letters got delivered to him only.

With another hoot, Malcom flew off through the open window, which Ted then walked towards. He pulled it shut, though it squeaked as he did so, and he had to employ a lot more strength than was reasonable for what should be such a simple task.

Shaking his head, he returned to his desk, where he overcame his distaste for the book laying on it and picked it up. It was not the first time he had done so; he did, after all, know enough about it and its contents to let Harry know it might be useful for his search into his ancestry. Still, he didn't particularly enjoy its tone or the beliefs that had led to its writing. It was true that he _had_ learned some useful information from it, not less about his own ancestry. A few centuries ago, Notts had been less concerned with writing screeds on blood purity, and more about broadening the applications of magic. One ancestor from the 18th century, Nicholas Nott, had discovered several magical properties of coffee, and slightly more recently, there had been a famous Quidditch player—though that one was not his direct ancestor. It was quite sad what they had been reduced to, though he hoped to change that one day. Regardless of what his father thought, the family name did matter to Theodore, he just had quite different ideas on what honoured it.

He leafed through the book, trying to find if it actually contained anything that Harry might find useful. Doing so would hopefully keep his mind from brooding. The book's contents weren't laid out very well, though there was a semblance of order. He was able to find a lot of information on Slytherin's family, which was not that surprising. Old Cantankerous, like most Notts, had been a Slytherin, which made the founder's lineage of special interest to him. The other founders were given coverage as well, but seemed to have taken much less of the old man's time. In any case, all their families had long since gone extinct in the male line, and so the interest was more so that old reactionaries could claim brownie points for being related to more founders than the next guy.

And so it went on. He was feeling tired, and perhaps not up to searching the book as much as he thought. He did wonder what the Potters had done to warrant exclusion from the _Directory_ , but perhaps they just weren't old enough, and therefore of suspect extraction. Of course, even if they _had_ been in the _Directory_ in the thirties, the sole surviving Potter would not merit inclusion anyway. The thought made him grin. Maybe he should marry a muggleborn too. That would get rid of another pureblood family. It's not like the Notts had a lot of social standing left to lose. He shrugged. At twelve years old, he wasn't exactly contemplating imminent marriage. Still, it was an amusing thought sometimes.

He put the book aside and thought for a while about what he should do with it in the meantime. He figured the place where it would be the least noticeable was next to other books, so after giving it a much more thorough dusting, he put it in the bottom of the pile of schoolbooks which currently sat in his trunk, waiting in vain to be used for revision, which _was_ something he really needed to start doing—his friends' letters had informed him of their half-hearted start.

With a sigh, he delved deep within his trunk and retrieved his History of Magic textbook. He might as well take the most unpleasant subject and get it over with as quickly as possible.

Despite his best efforts, Ted fell asleep on top of his textbook a few dozen pages in. He woke up a couple of hours later with a cramped neck and a stiff back. His father still wasn't home. With a shudder, he turned in to bed, but his dreams were full of hazy horrors and he slept very poorly that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, I love and appreciate every review. I'd be very interested in knowing what worked for you, and what didn't.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written without the benefit of a beta. As such, it may be a bit rough around the edges. I proofread it to the best of my ability, but nothing can replace a second pair of eyes and opinion. I have found a beta since then, but I thought I'd warn you.

" _With one eye on the past,  
_ _some see which they cannot see,  
_ _whilst others in the future see  
_ _that which cannot be seen._

_Why go so far? Look closer!  
_ _What is freedom? This is the day!  
_ _This is the hour; the moment;  
_ _and this moment is who we are and that is that._

_Forever flowing, the eternal hour  
_ _reveals our insignificance.  
_ _In a single gasp we live and die, so seize the day,  
_ _For the day is simply who you are."_

_Ricardo Reis_

Harry actually managed to persuade Daphne to spend the morning revising for their end of year exams. It was a glorious spring day, though, so Daphne insisted on doing it outside rather than staying cooped up in the library. So they picked something suitably practical, and planned to split the morning between charms and transfiguration. When dinner time came around, however, they were so engrossed in their practical work that neither felt the need to actually go eat. Breakfast was always a ponderous affair anyway, which left them well sustained until teatime.

 _Practicing_ magic, while hard, never felt like a chore to Harry, especially transfiguration, which never ceased to delight him with its potential. Writing about it, however was another matter, so by unspoken agreement, they left the theory revision for another day, and just spent the afternoon goofing around. Growing up, Harry had never experienced the pleasure of wasting away a beautiful spring afternoon with a good friend, but now that he had, he didn't know whether it or doing magic were better.

"Of course, it's all very flat in Norfolk. No big mountains like here," Daphne was finishing describing the setting of her family home to Harry, who was listening intently as they were walking through the school grounds. He remembered going to Great Yarmouth with the Durseleys one summer. He'd been dragged along because they couldn't leave him back home alone, and had actually managed to lose them a few times and enjoy the seaside. He was about to tell Daphne about the Punch and Judy shows he'd seen, when his eyes came to rest on Hagrid's hut, which had just come into view.

Despite the warmth—it was one of the hottest days of the year so far—and the presence of only a very light breeze, Hagrid seemed to have some kind of blazing fire on, for copious amounts of smoke were coming out of the little chimney which topped his shack.

"Uh…" Harry exclaimed, stopping to take a better look. All the blinds were shut, and the door seemed to be bolted tight too. Daphne stopped when Harry did, and was about to say something when her gaze followed Harry's and registered what had given him pause.

"Oh no, don't tell me he's managed to burn down his shack!" While Harry had managed to persuade Daphne of Hagrid's docility, she obviously still didn't have the highest opinion of his intelligence. Still, since her words echoed his own concerns, Harry turned to Daphne as he started towards the hut.

"Come," he said, before quickening his pace as he turned ahead, followed by Daphne, who quickly caught up with him and managed to not break a sweat on the way there, unlike Harry, who was not in nearly as good a physical shape.

She knocked on the door, but let Harry speak, not sure if Hagrid would even recognize her voice.

"Hagrid? Are you alright in there?" Harry asked in turn, adding his own knock. Once Harry spoke, he heard a rumbling inside, and he could tell Hagrid was walking towards the door.

"'Arry, is tha' you?" he asked through the door. "Is there anyone wit' you?"

"Just Daphne," Harry replied. He thought he'd heard a protest from inside. Was there someone else there with Hagrid?

That question was soon answered in the affirmative when, after a fair bit of fiddling with the locks, the door swung open just enough to let them through.

"Come on in, quick, ye two," Hagrid said gruffly, looking over their heads to make sure no one else was with them. On entering, they found Granger and Longbottom already sitting at the table, looking distinctly uncomfortable, although it wasn't clear whether that was because of Harry and Daphne's appearance, or from pretending to enjoy the dubious baked goods Hagrid had laid in front of them.

"Oh, hello," Harry said, not wanting to seem rude, even if he wasn't particularly happy with having to deal with them. Daphne greeted them too, while Harry's eyes wandered over to the massive fire roaring in the fireplace.

"Is that really needed?" he asked, looking at it pointedly. Hagrid looked suitably embarrassed.

"Err, it's…" he began, before Granger cut him off.

"He's got a dragon egg," she said, sounding exasperated. "Please help me convince him he can't keep it as a pet."

Harry wasn't sure what to say to that, but Daphne looked horrified.

"What? This..." Harry was sure she was about to say 'shack,' but if she was, she managed to correct herself before the word left her mouth. "...house is made of wood!" she exclaimed. "Do you think you can train him to not breath fire?" she added, incredulously.

Harry began to feel somewhat chagrined. He was embarrassed on Hagrid's behalf. This really didn't seem like a very clever idea. But Harry was beginning to realize that, where dangerous beasts were concerned, Hagrid didn't have much in the way of restraint.

While Hagrid stood aside, trying to bluster a response, Harry took a step towards the fire. As he came closer, he realized a very large egg was placed in the middle of the fireplace, with flames roaring all around.

"Where did you find this in the first place?" he asked. "Surely you can't just go to Magical Menagerie and get one?"

"Of course not, they're illegal," Granger responded quickly.

"And for a very good reason," Daphne added. Longbottom wasn't saying anything, but the look on his face showed more than a little terror. While obviously content to let Granger do the talking, he seemed to agree with her one hundred percent. Daphne seemed like she was about to add something else, but Hagrid, ignoring the warnings, responded to Harry's question.

"Won it," he said. "Las' night. I was down in Hogsmede havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"Yeah, I bet," Harry heard Daphne murmur, but Hagrid was going on. "Couldn't believe it. Always was me dream to own one." He looked a bit misty eyed at the thought. Daphne, however, picked up on this.

"So he was just wandering around with a dragon egg in his pocket? What are the odds of that?" she said, frowning. Hagrid didn't seem to pay much mind to this, however.

"Oh, he was a weird lookin' feller. Prob'bly foreign or something. Like that Greek chappie i bought Fluffy off…" he trailed. "Sounded like he loved critters, 'e did. Kept asking me about what I took care of 'ere. he had ter be sure I could handle the dragon. I told 'im, after Fluffy, it'd be easy."

There was something there that Harry felt he should pursue, but before he could say anything about the topic, Granger interjected again.

"Hagrid, that sounds really suspicious. It sounds like this man was just trying to get rid of some contraband, and you played right along. You can't possibly think this is still a good idea," she pleaded.

"Nonsense. I can 'andle 'im, with a bit 'o love, I'm sure that's all it takes," Hagrid replied, stubbornly determined to make this work.

"Hagrid," Daphne spoke, serious now. "You might think that you can tame a dragon, teach him not to burn your house down, all of that," she began. Granger looked like she was about to protest, but Daphne raised her hand to stave her off. Somewhat reluctantly, the Gryffindor held her peace while Daphne went on. "But Dragons are huge. It's not going to be able to fit inside this place. You'll have to put it outside at some point. And then what's going to happen? People will see it. You'll get sent to Azkaban for illegally keeping a dragon. This isn't something you can hide under the bed…"

Harry was about to ask what Azkaban was, but whatever it was, it clearly made an effect on Hagrid. His countenance darkened at the words, and his eyes darted from Daphne, to Granger and Longbottom, to Harry, and back to the dragon egg.

"Oh my God," he whispered. A shiver ran through him, even in the suffocating heat from the fire. "I wasn't thinkin'" he mumbled. Granger saw this opening and took it.

"She's right," she added. "You need to put out that fire and get rid of that egg as soon as possible." She got up and tried to pick up a massive pail of water which sat to the side, only to find she didn't have the strength to lift it. She struggled with it as Daphne shook her head.

"Granger, you're a witch. Just levitate the damn thing," she said, exasperated. Granger looked embarrassed at this, and Harry had to admit that it hadn't immediately occurred to him either to use magic. He didn't have long to dwell on this somewhat bitter reminder of what he lost, however, because Hagrid, still coming to grips with realizing the hot water he was in, spoke again.

"'ow am I gunna get rid o' th' egg, though," he pleaded. "I'd 'ave to turn meself in." Before either Harry or Daphne could think of a solution, Granger replied.

"I'm sure you could go to Professor Dumbledore," she said. Harry looked at her skeptically, but she continued. "You've always said Dumbledore is a great man, who's done so much for you. I'm sure he'll know what to do."

Daphne and Harry looked at each other. Neither of them was that keen on involving Dumbledore, but they didn't exactly have any better idea. And for what it was worth, Hagrid was latching onto this solution like a drowning man to a floater.

"Yer right," he said. Granger looked like she was about to follow Daphne's suggestion and cast the levitation charm, but Hagrid quickly grabbed the pail and threw the water into the fire, which was quickly doused and left smouldering, filling the cabin with unpleasant smoke. Coughing, Harry and Daphne opened the windows, helping to clear the air inside

Granger and Longbottom had both stood up, and were walking towards the door. "Y'er right Hermione," Hagrid repeated. He awkwardly patted her shoulder in gratitude. "I should've thought…" he trailed. "But it doesn't matter now. Y'er right. I'll go talk to Dumbledore tonight. Great man, Dumbledore is, great man. He'll sort everything out."

It was clear that Granger and Longbottom were ready to say their goodbyes. When Hagrid wasn't looking, however, Granger mouthed a silent 'thank you' to both him and Daphne. Harry didn't feel like he'd really done much. It was really Daphne's work. But they both nodded, as Granger bid Hagrid goodbye.

"We'll leave you two to your visit," she said, and Harry nodded again as they left. Most of the smoke from the smouldering fire had left, taken away by the breeze, which had grown stronger since they'd last been outside, and Hagrid shut all but one of the windows, before starting a fire on the stove.

"Would yer be wanting some tea or coffee?" Hagrid asked. "I've got some rock cakes, as well," he added.

"Uh, tea would be great, but we're not really hungry now," Harry quickly replied, having long learned his lesson on Hagrid's baking skills.

"Sorry about all tha'" Hagrid said as he boiled the kettle. Harry and Daphne quickly replaced Granger and Longbottom at the table, neither really sure of what to say to that. Fortunately, Hagrid went on. "So why wer' ye two coming round anyway?" he asked, as the kettle began to boil and he quickly made tea for the three of them.

"Oh, we actually just saw the smoke coming from your house, and were worried whether it was on fire or something," Harry said, slightly bashfully. "We were just checking you were alright. Didn't think there was any reason to have a fire on on a day like today."

"Well, ye wer' rite," Hagrid replied, as he set down the tea and then took a seat across from them. "I jus'..." he trailed. "I jus' wanted to have a dragon for so long, I never thought o'the consequences, ye kno'" he explained lamely, clearly realizing how weak this sounded, even to himself.

"Well, just remember this whenever you're tempted to take a creature from some random bloke down the pub," Daphne told him pointedly. Trying to change the subject, she went on.

"Was it you who found 'Fluffy' then?" she asked. "Just where do you get a three headed dog from, anyway?"

"Ah, bought 'im off a Greek chappie," Hagrid replied, taking a sip of his tea. "Perfect fer doing my part to guard… well, yer know what," he added, clearly recalling his own admission a few months ago.

"Your part? Does that mean there's more?" Harry asked, now curious despite himself. He still hadn't forgotten the amazing treasure that dog was guarding, and couldn't help but feel a stir of desire for that stone within him. Realistically, he knew he couldn't do much about it… But that didn't stop his curiosity.

"Oh every professor's done his part," Hagrid replied. "Really, massive honour to be part of this when I'm jus' the Gameskeeper. Great man, Dumbledore," he added, the familiar refrain beginning to grate on Harry's nerves.

"So, what's it like?" asked Daphne. "Is it just like a normal dog? How'd you even manage to get it in there?"

"Oh, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep -" Hagrid suddenly paused and looked like he'd just stepped on a three-headed dog egg.

"Forget I said tha," he mumbled. Daphne was looking down at her cup of tea with her lips pursed, and Harry could tell she was trying hard not to burst out laughing. Well, at least someone was having fun. Harry was just glad there was more than Hagrid's defences guarding the Stone, otherwise it'd've been gone already.

They stayed and made a little bit more small talk with Hagrid, but it was obvious he was still chagrined over the whole situation with the dragon egg, so they quickly made their excuses and left.

"Honestly, who thought putting him in charge of any kind of secret defence was a good idea? I'm surprised _The Daily Prophet_ hasn't reported about it yet. Why would Dumbledore not just keep the thing with himself at all times, and not tell anybody about it, if he's guarding it for his friend?" Daphne was definitely not impressed about the whole thing, but some of that made the wheels in Harry's mind start to turn.

"Dumbledore may be insane, but he's not stupid. At least, I doubt he'd get where he is today if he was," he began. Daphne nodded at that, so he continued. "So if he's not stupid, maybe… he's doing it on purpose?" Harry frowned. "Why would you make your own protections deliberately weak, and make that really easy to find out? I mean, we're just first years, so if we could find this out, anyone who really wanted to know could too…"

Daphne stopped abruptly. "It's a trap," she said, closing her fist in a confident gesture. "Of course, it all makes sense now. They must have caught wind that someone was after the Stone… And so Dumbledore sets it up in a way that gets out, so that he can trap the thief." Daphne looked very satisfied with herself for working that out, and set out towards the castle once again. Harry was frowning, though.

"That kind of makes sense," he replied, his brow furrowing further. "But how would the thief get to Hogwarts?" he asked. "Surely it's not that easy to just get into the castle." He paused and slapped his forehead. "We're idiots. It's Quirrell! We saw him try to steal it. He's already here."

They looked at each other in silence. "But he knows where to find Quirrell. He doesn't need to trap him," Daphne replied.

"Maybe he just needs to catch him in the act?" Harry reasoned. "He may know but not be able to prove it. That'd explain why he hired such a bad teacher," he added with a grin.

"Does show that he's not very concerned for our safety, though, doesn't it?" Daphne replied. "I mean, I suppose just because he's a thief doesn't mean he'd be violent, but still, sounds a little irresponsible…"

"Well, Dumbledore is mad. I thought we were all agreed on that. At least now we know there's a little bit of method to his madness." Harry thought for a second. "I remember meeting Quirrell when Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley. He said he'd been a teacher before, but had gone to Albania, and came back a bit unhinged… I wonder if the reason he wants to steal the stone is something to do with what happened there."

Daphne shrugged. "No point in us worrying about it, I guess. Let's just hope he gets sent to Azkaban before our final exams," she added with a laugh.

"Oh yeah, you'd mentioned that before. What's Azkaban?" Harry asked as they resumed their walk.

"It's the wizarding prison," Daphne explained. "It's on an island somewhere in the North Sea, and guarded by horrible creatures called dementors…"

She explained to Harry about these as they went back to the common room, and it was almost enough to make him lose his appetite for tea. Their horrible, happiness destroying nature haunted his dreams that night.

* * *

The next day marked the return of the Weasley twins to the Great Hall, after not having been seen around for the whole of the previous day. Their officious older brother, Percy the Prefect, kept giving them the evil eye, but they actually seemed somewhat chastised, which was an emotion Harry had never seen on their face before. They seemed to be in dread of something throughout breakfast, eating little and looking around regularly.

Harry worried they were planning something, but the source of their apprehension became obvious as soon as the owls flew in to deliver the morning post. This being the second to last day of Easter Holidays, the volume of post was smaller than usual. Friends who were writing to each other beforehand would soon be meeting again, so most of the letters were from family members.

Harry and Daphne had been paying attention to the Weasley family, so were able to watch every moment as a red envelope dropped in between the twins. Harry was puzzled by this, but Daphne seemed to recognize it, for she gripped his arm and whispered, "Watch!" showing barely contained excitement.

Harry did, even if trying very hard to pretend he wasn't. He watched as the letter almost came to life and a voice, which Harry could vaguely recognize from Kings' Cross, began echoing throughout the great hall.

"FREDERICK AND GEORGE WEASLEY," it bellowed. "HOW DARE YOU, AFTER ALL YOUR FATHER HAS DONE FOR YOU?! DO YOU KNOW HOW THIS HAS GONE DOWN AT THE MINISTRY? CHARMING MUGGLE ARTIFACTS…"

The twins had grabbed the envelope and ran out of the Great Hall before anything else could be heard, but laughter rang through the several tables, especially the Slytherin one. Alex Campbell was nowhere in sight (probably with his girlfriend, or out on prefect duties) but he would be hearing all about this later. Meanwhile, Harry and Daphne shared a knowing laugh. Harry threw his head back in mirth, and whispered, "Well, that alone was worth the price of admission." Daphne looked at him in slight confusion at his expression, but he shrugged. "I'll explain later."

* * *

Ted Nott climbed aboard the Hogwarts express, alone with his school trunk after his father had perfunctorily waved him goodbye at the platform. A quick apparation had brought him to London from his West Country home, but now a long train ride awaited him. His father could have technically apparated with him to Hogsmede—he was certainly skilled enough to do it over that distance. But the Hogwarts Express was such an ingrained tradition that no Hogwarts alumn ever thought of going otherwise, regardless of how inconvenient it might seem.

Ted himself liked the long journey north. It allowed him to defuse the tension lingering from his stint at home, and prepare himself for the return to the hustle and bustle of school. As he dragged his trunk to an empty compartment, he smiled a little smile to himself, thinking of the letter from Harry laying at the bottom of his trunk. He wished he could have been there to help Harry and Daphne put one up on the Weasley twins, but just knowing about it filled him with a mischievous joy.

As he settled himself comfortably for the long haul and pulled a book out from his backpack, an auburn head poked in through the door. He raised his eyes to see a Ravenclaw fellow first year, and felt a spark of recognition, which lit up when she spoke in her Scottish tones:

"Hello. You're Harry's best pal, Theodore Nott, aren't you?" she asked with a shy smile.

Ted nodded somewhat sheepishly. "Morag MacDougal, right?" he replied, his memory now catching up with him.

She nodded as her smile broadened somewhat. "That's me." They looked at each other somewhat awkwardly before Ted got his bearings.

"Do you want to seat down?" he asked, removing some of his things from the bench in front of him.

Morag nodded and brought her luggage fully inside the compartment, shutting the door behind her. "Thanks," she started as she shoved things around, Ted getting up to help her. "There's not many people around this time, and I didn't want to sit by myself. Since I knew you were Harry's friend, I thought I'd say hi." she finished as she took a seat opposite Ted.

Ted's face lit up with a small grin as he nodded. "Harry told us about you. Daphne thinks you're more than friends, though," he retorted, feeling mischievous. He was rewarded by a deep blush lighting Morag's features.

"It's nothing like that!" she protested. "Greengrass needs to mind her own business." Ted just laughed at this.

"Daphne's always like that. Although I have to admit I was suspicious too," he replied with a wink, to further embarrassment on the Ravenclaw's part. This was cut short by the compartment door opening again, and a harassed looking Tracey Davis rushing in, dragging a suitcase behind her, just as the train started moving.

Ted and Morag, startled, looked up as she shut the door and collapsed on the seat next to Ted, panting hard.

"Almost… missed… train," she said between gasps of air. Unlike the two previous occupants, she was wearing muggle clothing, her jeans and trainers clashing with the train's austere environment. She managed to regain her breath after a few minutes and smiled sheepishly at the pair. "Sorry folks, mum and dad got back together again. As usual, got into a huge argument as they were bringing me over. Almost made me miss the train." She looked at Morag, only then realizing she wasn't really acquainted with the compartment's other occupant.

"And hello to you too, Tracey," Ted remarked non-nonchalantly. Morag looked slightly embarrassed.

"Hi Ted," Tracey replied. "Morag, right? I'm Tracey Davis," she continued, turning to Morag. "Didn't know you and Ted knew each other."

"That's right," Morag replied. "And we didn't really, but I knew he was Harry's friend, and there were so few first years around, I thought I'd say hi regardless…" she trailed.

Tracey's expression darkened slightly at this, leaving Ted to wonder if perhaps Daphne might not have been so far off the mark after all. He shrugged inwardly. _'How do girls always know these things?'_ he wondered, before rapidly trying to defuse the situation.

"So I gather you holidays didn't go exactly as planned, then?" he asked Tracey, hoping to lead the conversation away from Harry and towards a safer topic.

This seemed to work, as she turned to him and shook her head, laughing now. "Nope. Mum and dad hit it off again when they came to pick me up..." she launched into the narrative, and he and Morag were treated to a long narrative of Tracey's holidays and the romantic mishaps between the girl's parents. Ted was amazed by how much Tracey was able to take these things in stride, but he supposed they were quite commonplace for her by now. Tracey's momentary antipathy for Morag seemed to subside as the journey progressed, and they got to Hogwarts in good spirits.

That night before bed, he slid Harry _The Pureblood Directory_ , but whispered, "Let's get you know what sorted out tomorrow first." At the nod from Harry, he quickly withdrew to bed, where he slept better than he had for the entire Holidays.

* * *

The next day, Ted and Harry were walking the grounds, closer to the Forbidden Forest than they probably ought to have been. Harry looked furtively around, checking no one was watching them, before nodding to his taller friend. "All clear," he whispered.

At this, Ted nodded and set his backpack on the flood. He quickly kneeled and opened it, extracting what looked like a large jam-jar from it. On closer inspection, Harry could see that the lid had small holes poked on it. A small garden snake was inside it, seemingly asleep. Ted offered Harry the jar. "Special delivery," he said with a wry smile, his tone close to a whisper as well, though there was no real reason to whisper. However, Harry always felt like he was being watched, and maybe his nervousness spread to his friend. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Ted asked, looking almost wary.

Harry nodded. "I need to know for sure," he replied. "There's just too much at stake," he continued, as he slowly unscrewed the lid, lowering the jar to the floor at the same time.

After a few seconds, the snake stirred and began moving towards freedom. With trepidation, Harry heard it speak distinctively, " _Free at lassst. Damn the miserable humansssss,_ " as it started slithering through the ground, which was still covered in dew. Harry heard himself reply, " _Ssssorry we trapped you,"_ he began, unconscious of any different in his speech.

He quickly realized he must be speaking Parseltongue, though, for Ted drew back in shock and looked at him as if he had never seen him before, for a fraction of a second, before shaking himself and muttering. "You can really speak it," Ted whispered. "I didn't really believe it..."

Harry spared him a glance, but quickly had to return his focus to the snake, which was now raising its head to face him. _"Sssorryy? Do you know how long I was in there?"_

He could tell the snake wasn't in a good mood, but fortunately he had prepared himself for the eventuality. He dug into his robe's pocket and extracted a bag full of bits of bacon. Normally he used them to give as treats to Hedwig, but they would do for this too. _"Here, have this,"_ he replied as he dropped some meat on the snake's path. _"I hope this makes up for it,"_ he finished, laying some more along. He thought he could feel the creature's mood change as it slithered quicker towards the treats, its mouth open as it began to devour one.

" _Perhappss it has been worth it after all..."_ it trailed as it devoured another. Taking this as acquiescence, Harry finished dumping the bag's contents on the ground. He then got up from his crouch and turned to face Ted, who had been watching the whole interchange with a fascinated expression.

"I guess it worked?" Harry asked, already knowing the answer.

Ted nodded rapidly at this, his expression still one of awe. "I could only hear you hissing," he replied. "But I guess you were talking to it?" he asked eagerly.

"It wasn't very happy at being locked in that jar," Harry replied with a smile. "But I managed to placate it with some treats."

"Couldn't see any other way of getting it here," Ted replied, to which Harry rapidly replied.

"Of course, you had to do something like that." He sighted. "I hope it manages to survive around here." They walked slowly towards the castle, keeping silence for several minutes before Harry spoke again. "What do you think this means?" Harry asked, looking and feeling quite bewildered. He was fairly sure the experiment was going to work, but having it confirmed that he shared this strange magical gift with the wizard who tried to kill him left a very bitter taste in his mouth.

Ted glanced at Harry before slowly shaking his head. "I don't really know," he replied. "There's so many possible reasons for you to have it." He paused before lowering his voice. "But my other delivery should help us find out.

Nodding, they began to walk towards the tree which was their usual hangout when the weather was pleasant. It was much easier to make sure no one was eavesdropping on you when you were outside. They sat close together, and Harry laid his backpack on the ground. With one final look around, just to be safe, he pulled out the book he'd been waiting so long to get his hands on.

As he began to turn the first few pages, he sighed. "Do purebloods not believe in using tables on contents?" he asked with a wry grin, at which Ted shrugged apologetically.

"I think once you get past the introduction, the families are in alphabetical order," he explained, so Harry opened the book about a third of the way in. He landed at almost exactly the right spot, on the entry for the Greengrass family. Right letter, at least. He couldn't help but have a quick glance at the information on Daphne's family, although there wasn't much there that turned out to be of interest. He reminded himself the book had been written sixty odd years ago, although it did mention the location of their ancestral home in Norfolk, which he already knew about from Daphne.

Turning a few pages back, he finally reached the chapter on the Gaunt family. Ted was reading over his shoulder, and Harry pressed on through the first few pages, which confirmed the connection to Salazar Slytherin, mentioning that the family was known for possessing the gift of Parseltongue. It was the only family where this was known to occur, even if other possessors of the gift would not be likely to advertise it. The Gaunt themselves seem to be an exception to this, with them apparently wearing it as a badge of honour. The book also confirmed the connection between the Gaunts and the Peverell family, via Cadmus Peverell, the middle brother.

Harry's eyes almost glowed at this information, and he pressed on, wanting to find out what had happened to this family. They didn't seem to be directly related to him, but with both the Peverell and Parseltongue connections, it was just too intriguing to drop.

Finally, he got to the current (for the 1930s) information. The Gaunts made their home in Little Hangleton, County Durham. A family patriarch of sorts, called Marvolo Gaunt, had died a few years prior to the book's publication. Harry couldn't help but giggle at this name.

"It sounds like a muggle magician's name," Harry explained at Ted's quizzical look, before continuing to read. Apparently this man had been involved in some altercations with aurors, and been sentenced to Azkaban. He was released, but died shortly thereafter. He had a son, however, named Morfin. He had been sentenced to a longer imprisonment on the same charges, but later had been released as well, and was still alive at the time of the book's writing, having yet no offspring.

The Greengrass chapter was on the next page, and Harry was tempted to skip the last few paragraphs, but was glad he persevered, for the information contained therein was tantalizing.

_The House of Gaunt's status in our blood-traitor infested society is not properly recognized, and the family has sadly fallen on hard times. However, they are still the proud owners of a famed locket which was a possession of Salazar Slytherin himself, as well as the Peverell signet ring, passed down from Cadmus Peverell._

At the bottom of the page were artists' impressions of these two items. Harry didn't pay much attention to the locket, though he noticed the engraving in the form of a snake. The ring was topped with a stone, bearing what Harry assumed to be some sort of family crest: a triangle with a circle inside, touching all three sides, and a vertical line slicing from the top of the triangle to the base. Harry touched the page at that exact point.

"That stone…" he whispered. "Do you think?" He wasn't sure if he really believed it, but he _wanted_ to believe. He wanted for there to be a way to reverse death. He wanted it more badly than anything else he had ever wanted.

Ted seemed to be focusing on something else, though, his brow furrowed in thought. "I don't know… But I know I've seen that symbol before…" he pointed at the Peverell crest, his finger hovering above Harry's. "I can't remember where. It may have been a book. But I know I've seen it before, and not connected with the Peverells."

Harry didn't know what to think. About anything. Was he somehow connected to the Gaunts? He wondered if this Morfin man was still alive. Daphne's dad worked at the ministry. Could he find that out for him? That would require him to tell Daphne, but he figured she'd earned it. With resolve, he snapped the book shut, almost catching Ted's finger.

"Hey, watch it," he said with a laugh.

"Sorry," Harry replied sheepishly. "Can I keep this for a little longer?" he asked. "I kind of want to know more about some of the other families. You know, the ones we have classmates from…" he added with a grin.

Ted nodded. "Keep it until the end of term. It's not like I can go put it back before then." They gathered their things and began walking back to the school. Harry was deep in thought, and Ted respected his silence, walking amiably by his side.

As they went through the gates, Harry resolved to update Daphne on this, and enlist her help. He'd already asked her father to do something, though, and he was going to have him over later in the summer. Daphne spoke kindly of him, but Christian Greengrass was not Harry Potter's goffer, and he needed to think of some suitable way to repay the favours.

Harry didn't say much until dinner, and Daphne clearly noticed, but a look from Ted told her to say nothing. Her patience was rewarded at the end of the meal, as the trio made their way out of the great hall.

"We need to talk," he said. "Not here. Let's find somewhere we can talk privately. I have something very important I need to talk to you about," he added, meeting Daphne's and Ted's eyes in turn.

Ted seemed to sense Harry was going to let Daphne into his confidence on this issue, and nodded, glad he was being brought along. They quickly found a disused classroom, to which Harry applied various privacy charms.

"When did you learn those charms?" Ted asked, sounding impressed.

Harry grinned. "Learned them from our friendly Ravenclaw prefect." After a pause he went on. "Well, I looked them up in the library after seeing him do it. I figured they'd come in handy seeing as I'm having secret meetings all the time," he added with a grin. They really were extremely useful. The trio took their seats before Harry turned to Daphne. He paused for a second, wondering how to approach this.

"Daphne, would you still be my friend if there was something dark about me?" he asked, having picked his approach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I welcome all kinds of reviews, but especially for this chapter, due to the lack of a beta, I know criticism will be warranted at several points, so please let me know where I can improve.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to everyone who is reviewing my story.

" _Provisionally 'I' practically alive mistook signs for signified and so since have often tried to run them off a cliff like Gadarene swine and tied my thought-ropes in anchor bends wondering whether we were someone better then, or maybe just better able to pretend (and what better means to our inevitable end!)"_

mewithoutYou _, Fox's Dream of the Log Flume_

"Daphne, would you still be my friend if there was something dark about me?" he asked, having picked his approach.

Daphne raised her eyebrow at this. "Are you going to confess to a murder or something?" she asked, trying to sound glib but not exactly succeeding. She clearly realized this, because she shook her head and replied.

"Honestly, Harry, it's a bit hard to answer a really vague question like that, but short of murder and rape, or, I don't know, casting Unforgiveables, I can't see why…"

Harry was going to let her finish, but Ted cut her off. "It's really nothing of that kind… He's just being dramatic," he said with a sigh, before turning to Harry.

"I'm not saying you're wrong to be careful, but I don't think anyone in Slytherin will really be bothered by it." Harry sighed and nodded. Ted was probably right.

Meanwhile, Daphne had tensed up, though she seemed like she was trying to contain her excitement. It was like she could sense this was the moment when she was going to be fully inducted into Harry's confidence.

"I…" she paused. "I can't say how I'm going to react until you tell me what it is. But I swear," she grabbed her wand and held it up high, pointing at the ceiling, in a solemn gesture, "that I won't tell anyone. Your secret's safe with me." Lowering her wand, she added. "And I really can't imagine anything that'd make me no longer want to be your friend," she added, her eyes meeting Harry's in what he thought was a sincere show of emotion. He made his decision then.

"I'm a parselmouth," he said quickly. To her credit, Daphne didn't flinch. She blinked a couple of times, then replied.

"Are you sure?" she shook her head. "That was a dumb question, wasn't it? Kind of hard to imagine a snake talking to you…" she trailed. Harry and Ted grinned.

"Yeah, but we tested it just the same. It just came up when we were reading about something else, and I realized I _had_ spoken to a snake before." He told her the story of the boa constrictor at the zoo.

"Your cousin had it coming if you ask me," Daphne commented at the end, before turning her attention back to the matter at hand. "So, you tested it to make sure. I guess that's why you got sorted into Slytherin so quickly," she said. "Not that you don't fit in, don't get me wrong, but that probably means you're related to Salazar Slytherin…"

"Well, that's kind of where this whole thing began," Harry starts, before giving Daphne the skinny on his own quest to find more about his origins, the discovery of his descent from the Peverells, and the other Peverell line which led to the Gaunts, proud descendants of Salazar Slytherin, and speakers of Parseltongue.

"But as far as I've been able to work out, I'm not directly related to them at all," he finished. "Although all the information I have is not that recent. I only know that this man, Morfin Gaunt, was alive in the 1930s and was their last descendant. But I don't know if he's still alive, or if he's had any children, or well, anything." He stretched his hands in defeat. "It just feels like the more I find out, the less I actually know."

Daphne was silent, in thought, for a few seconds. "I'd really like to help you with this Harry," she finally replied. "I mean, I'd be really frustrated too if I didn't know anything about my family and had to piece it all together from old books… Family is really important."

"Well, you can help me," Harry began. "Or at least, your father can…" He was a bit pained for having to ask this favour. "I don't know what I can do to repay him… or you," he said. He was about to go on, but Daphne cut him off with a smirk.

"Harry, just coming over and staying with us over the summer is payment enough."

Harry was a bit confused by the notion that staying at someone else's house was doing _them_ a favour. This confusion must have shown on his face, because Daphne began to explain.

"Well, there _is_ something for you to do. But it's not that big of a deal. You just need to be around when he has some other important people over. So he can brag about how his daughter is friends with the Boy-Who-Live…" she gave him a wry grin. "It's high society nonsense, but it'll make him look good… And I get to have my friend stay with me. It's win-win, really."

Ted had kept silent so far, letting Harry do the talking, but despite his own forced exclusion from this, now nodded vigorously. "It'll give her dad a pretty big social boost, if I understand anything about how those things work. So don't be shy about asking for something in return."

"Besides, I'd already asked him to look into your family situation. Haven't heard anything about that yet, by the way," she added in the way of a progress report. "But really, that's not even a major favour. You just want to know about a person. Most Register stuff is public domain, anyway. You just can't get to the Ministry as conveniently as he can."

"Well, that's.. Good." Harry smiled and gripped Daphne's arm. "Thank you, Daphne. I'm lucky to have you as my friend," he said softly, before releasing her and taking a step back. He felt slightly embarrassed at the outburst of emotion.

Ted felt that, and decided to relieve the tension. "So, I found this interesting curse in a book while I was away," he began, whipping his wand out. "It's called the Bone Hurting Curse. The effects are pretty obvious from the name," he added with a grin. The incantation is ' _osto ponos_ ,'" he said as he demonstrated the wand movements, making sure to point at the wall as he did so. This produced a yellowish grey spell which left a faint scorch mark on the stones as it hit them.

"Well, that _looks_ like it worked," he said. "Obviously, I didn't have anyone to test this on…."

Both Harry and Daphne took a few attempts to try to cast it at the wall, but it wasn't a particularly hard spell as far as they went, and soon, with a little coaching from Ted, they were producing the same results as he had.

"Why don't we take turns casting it on each other. I assume you can just cancel it afterwards…" Harry suggested, taking the lead.

Ted nodded. "Yeah, just cast finite…" he began, before informing them of the countercurse which would cancel it if you'd been hit by someone else's attempt.

"Cast it on me first to see if it works," he added. Harry nodded. He was slightly ashamed to admit he was a bit concerned to suffer a curse whose effects he hadn't seen yet, even if the idea came from his best friend. He relaxed a bit at this, and meeting Ted's eyes and nodding in acknowledgement, cast the curse as Daphne watched intently.

The sickly coloured spell shot from Harry's wand and hit Ted square in the chest. A fraction of a second later, Ted let out an exclamation of pain as his body twitched, and he struggled to hold on to his wand.

"Oof, ow, my bones hurt," he grimaced as he took a step back. He looked like old Mrs. Figg when she was complaining about her arthritis. "Oof, ow, my bones," he said through gritted teeth, before casting the countercurse on himself.

"Well, glad that worked," he sighed in relief. Harry started to feel slightly uncomfortable with this practice. It didn't seem like there was much of a use for this spell other than causing pain.

Daphne seemed to be feeling somewhat conflicted as well, and as usual, was the first to voice her opinion. "Is this really something we should be learning?" she asked. "I'm cool with learning how to defend myself, but this seems a little… sadistic," she finished after finding the right word.

"Harry wasn't sure he'd've put it like that, but Daphne'd managed to convey most of his concern, so he turned in anticipation to hear Ted's reply.

"I mean, obviously, it _can_ be used that way," he began, looking somewhat uncomfortable. "But the point is more that it's a way to make your opponent lose focus. It's hard to cast properly if your bones are hurting. It's the same reason you'd hit them with a ticking jinx, only... A little more painful," he explained.

Harry nodded slowly at this. "Besides, if we practice being hit by it, we'll be better at handling the pain if someone casts it on us." He nodded with resolve. "Alright, Ted, cast it on me now," he said, not wanting to have to cast it on Daphne. It seems he was altogether too transparent about this.

"Don't get chivalrous with me, Potter," she said with a grin. "You'll hexing me before the day is over," she added, throwing a stinging jinx at him for good measure.

They had a pretty spirited defence practice after that, with any ethical misgivings forgotten, at least for the moment. It was nice to have the trio together again, and all in all, Harry felt very happy at how the day's events had gone.

* * *

Soon the end of year exams were upon them. Even though they did eventually revise the theory, with notes and quizzing each other, Harry didn't feel as confident there as he did on his practical work. The snuffbox he'd transfigured a mouse into had certainly won him high verbal praise from McGonagall, even if he did not know his full mark yet. He felt very pleased with himself at managing to impress the stern Gryffindor head of house.

He was least confident of all about the Defence Against the Dark Arts exams, not because he didn't know the material, but because he'd had a splitting headache for the whole session. It had been fortunate in a way that he'd practiced casting even when dealing with cursed bones, because that at least ensured he was still able to do his practical at some level of competence, even if he knew his performance was below his actual standard.

In fact, Harry's headaches began to feel worse and worse throughout the days after their last exam, History of Magic, which Harry really did not have very high expectations for. He tried not to complain too much, but he could tell his friends were worried.

Still, even the headaches did not completely cloud the joy of the last day of exams. What did do that was the prospect of returning to the Dursleys soon, but there was nothing he realistically could do about it, so he just tried to put it off his mind, reminding himself that he'd go stay with Daphne soon afterwards.

Professor Dumbledore wasn't at dinner that night, which was a bit unexpected, but Harry didn't give it much thought. He was working out the summer plans with Daphne and Ted.

"While I'm at the Dursleys, don't use your owls to send me post," he warned his friends. He gave them his muggle postal address before explaining. "They'll go crazy if they see them swoop in. I'll use Hedwig to reply, but it's easier if you use the muggle post to get to me.

Ted looked slightly embarrassed at this suggestion, and Harry quickly realized that he probably didn't know enough about muggles to know how to use the Royal Mail.

"Just owl them to me," Daphne offered. "Dad knows how to do it, so I'll just ask him, and I'll send your letters together with mine."

Relieved that the situation sorted itself out, Harry let his gaze wander along the other house tables. The Ravenclaws still looked very haggard, which made sense as most other years hadn't finished their exams yet. He smiled at Morag when their eyes met, and looked further towards the Gryffindor table.

The Weasley twins were there, still looking somewhat chastised, with their older brother Percy casting occasional watchful glances at them. He spotted Granger and Longbottom, who were engaged in some kind of argument. Eventually, Granger walked up to Professor McGonagall and said something to her. Whatever she'd been hoping for from the Transfiguration teacher, it clearly wasn't forthcoming, because she returned to her seat next to Longbottom looking thoroughly disappointed.

As dinner came to an end and they were leaving the Great Hall, the two Gryffindors passed close enough to Harry's group that Harry could catch some of their whispered conversation, as Granger's whispers were more in the vein of stage whispers than anything conducive to actual secrecy.

"Dumbledore isn't here tonight. It's the perfect opportunity for him to steal the stone. If McGonagall doesn't believe us, we have to stop him ourselves." Curious at this mention of the stone, Harry waved to his friends, letting them know he would be meeting them later, before quickly jumping off his seat, leaving a half-finished dessert behind him. He wasn't sure if he wasn't going on a wild goose chase, and was slightly embarrassed by his impulsive reaction, so chose to keep his friends out of this for the time being.

He followed the two Gryffindors, wishing he had his invisibility cloak with him. This meant he had to keep his distance, and thought he'd lost them more than once. However, since he figured they were heading to the forbidden third floor corridor, he continued in that direction and was always able to catch up to them again.

It was providential that he had kept as far behind as he did, however, because the third floor corridor was, after all, forbidden. In their excitement, the Gryffindors had forgotten all about it, as had Harry, but Filch definitely had not. Harry almost rounded a corner and put himself in full view of the caretaker, who had just caught the two Gryffindors in the act of venturing towards the door beyond which Harry knew Fluffy lay guarding.

Harry quickly took a step back, thankful that the janitor was too busy berating the two Gryffindors to have noticed him. He hid himself behind a conveniently placed suit of armor, and waited until Filch dragged the two Gryffindors away, Granger looking pale and shaken and Longbottom like he was about to crap his pants.

Once Harry was fairly sure that the coast was clear, and again cursing the fact that he didn't have his invisibility cloak with him, he stepped out from behind the suit of armor and looked around. The corridor was deserted, and there was no noise or any other sign of passing students or staff.

Feeling himself relax, Harry walked towards the door, his steps light and quiet. He put his ear to the door and heard Fluffy growling on the other side. Everything seemed to be alright. He shook his head.

 _The exams really must have got to me if I'm chasing some bloody Gryffindors around the castle for this,_ he thought. Resolving to let Dumbledore handle the stone, he turned around. He didn't hear any footsteps, but was able to catch a shadow out of the corner of his eye, before his vision was filled with a jet of red light, and then nothing.

* * *

"Nice of you to join us, Potter," Harry heard as he came to, his head split by the worst headache he had ever had in his life. The pain delayed his recognition, so it was only when he opened his eyes that he realized he was being addressed by Professor Quirrell. Of course, it didn't help that the man seemed to have lost his stuttering, fearful demeanor, and instead stood giving Harry a look of pure malice.

He tried to move, but found he was being held in place by a spell of some sort. So he looked around instead, to find he was in a bare room with only a mirror for furniture. There was some writing on its frame, but it was too far away for Harry to make out even if his head didn't feel like it was in a vice.

Memories started coming back to him. The third floor corridor. A shadow, and a jet of red light. He remembered his theory of Quirrell trying to steal the stone, and the fact that Dumbledore was absent, and it kind of all came together, except…

"Professor Quirrell?" he asked, trying to stall, even if he wasn't sure what he was trying to stall for. It's not like his chances against a fully trained wizard were beyond infinitesimal, even were he not already bound. "Is this about the Philosopher's stone? Is this where it's hidden?" Even if it was, though, that didn't really answer his remaining question. What did any of this have to do with him.

"Oh, you managed to find out about that, did you?" Quirrell asked, a somewhat impressed look showing on his face. "Let me guess, the half-giant oaf?" he laughed. "I can't imagine how Dumbledore thought he'd ever keep anything a secret with him involved."

Harry's personal theory was that it was quite intentional, but he wasn't about to say that. It was possible that there was some kind of alarm system in the room, and Dumbledore might be on the way. That thought gave him added impetus to keep trying to make Quirrell talk.

"Something like that…" he mumbled. "But… what does any of this have to do with me? I mean, I don't really approve of stealing in principle, but I don't really care what you do with the stone…" he began, but this only prompted a cruel laugh from Quirrell, with a chilling undertone that made his scar hurt again.

"I hadn't planned to bring you here, but when I saw you wandering around the third floor, I couldn't pass up the opportunity. It must have been fate that put you in position to witness tonight's events first hand… Witness my master's inevitable victory," he finished triumphantly, turning to Harry.

"You see Harry, I'm not trying to steal the stone for myself. I'm simply not worthy. No, a wizard far greater than me has helped me get here. And because you were such a stumbling block to him, he thought it fitting that you should witness his triumph."

It all began to fit together. Hagrid's words about no one knowing what happened to Voldemort after he'd tried to kill Harry. Of course, who else had Harry been a stumbling block to. Quirrel must be working for the Dark Lord.

"Is that what happened in Albania? Did you meet Voldemort there?" Harry asked, trying to get him to keep talking.

"SILENCE! You dare say my master's name?" Quirrell's face was contorted in anger. "You will pay for that, Potter. But you get to wait until I find the stone. Now let me figure out this mirror." He turned towards it again, studying it intently.

"I see the Stone... I'm presenting it to my master... but where is it?" He growled in frustration. "I don't understand... is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?" Quirrell cursed under his breath, and flinched in pain. "What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

Was Quirrell in communication with Voldemort, somehow? The truth proved to be far more horrible, as a raspy, decaying voice was heard in reply, sounding like it was coming from Quirrell's ridiculous turban.

"Use the boy... Use the boy…" Harry's eyes widened as Quirrel turned around and pointed his wand at him. As he did, he felt the magical binding which had held him loosen. Harry reasoned Quirrell was using silent casting, even as the Professor moved his wand again and Harry was pulled towards him by magic, stopping a couple feet away from the mirror.

"Look in the mirror, and tell me what you see," Quirrell ordered. Harry was now able to move again, but wasn't under any illusions that an escape attempt would be successful. His nostrils full of a foul smell which seemed to emanate from Quirrell's turban, he raised his head and looked at the mirror.

From Quirrell's earlier words, Harry had expected to see himself holding the stone, since if he'd managed to get his hands on it, he certainly wouldn't be giving it to anyone. Indeed, that was part of what he saw, but he wasn't just holding it. He was using it to make some drink, what he imagined the Elixir of Life looked like. Behind him were his parents, mirror images of the newspaper cutting pictures he had seen, and he was wearing the Peverell ring with what he thought to be the Resurrection Stone. A different wand than his own, and his invisibility cloak, lay to either side of him.

Harry wasn't going to say anything about that, though. He kept his answer to the stone alone. "I see myself making the Elixir of Life," he said. "I'm much older, and rich, beyond measure." He didn't think a little embellishment would hurt. His answer drew a sharp groan from Quirrell's turban, before the professor cursed again.

"Let me speak to the boy… face to face," Harry heard the horrible, raspy voice say. So that _was_ Voldemort.

"Master, you are not strong enough!" Quirrell whimpered, but Voldemort was having none of his concern.

"I have strength enough... for this..."

At that, Quirrell, shaking in a way that was now clearly not faked, reached up and began to unravel his turban. Harry watched in horror as it fell away and Quirrell turned. Everything inside him screamed in revulsion when he saw a face where the back of Quirrell's head should have been. The most horrible face he had ever seen, white and lacking a nose, red eyes glowing malevolently at him.

"Harry Potter," it whispered. Quirrell wasn't just in contact with Voldemort. He had been carrying him around for God knows how long. Was that why his head hurt so much when he was in Quirrell's vicinity? That made sense, because his head was certainly screaming in pain now.

"See what I have become?" Voldemort said. "Mere shadow and vapor... Forced to share this wretch's body…" Quirrell flinched at that, but Voldemort continued, unconcerned. "Once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own…" The face was split in a grotesque parody of a grin.

"But perhaps it wasn't by accident that you ended up in my old house after all," his voice rasped. "You can feel it, can't you boy? The allure of the stone.. Immortality… Yes, you feel it too… Maybe you're made of different stuff from your parents… They died begging for mercy…"

Harry didn't know why or how, but he knew instantly this was a lie. This broke his almost hypnotic fascination with the grotesque parody of a face on Quirrel's back. He shifted his feet.

"They died to save my life," Harry spat back, feeling hatred coursing through him. The resentment built up from ten years of neglect, being kept away from his heritage, from anyone who understood or cared about him, bubbled up to the surface now, only to be inflamed further by Voldemort's next words.

"Yes, boy, your parents were brave…" he said. "I killed your father first; and he put up a courageous fight... but your mother needn't have died... she was trying to protect you... Now tonight, I'm being very generous, boy. From a Slytherin to another. I'm giving you this chance to join me."

Not only did Harry somehow know, without a doubt, that this too was a lie, but he wouldn't have cared even if it was the truth. No longer thinking clearly, he was being driven by the rage and hatred he felt.

"Join you? You killed my parents! You ruined my life," Harry said, barely noticing that Quirrell was now walking backwards towards him. "I hate you. I HATE YOU!" Quirrell turned and spoke now, his face transfixed by pain and rage too.

"You insolent boy!" he spat, striking Harry in the face. Harry was surprised to feel more pain in his scar than he actually did where he'd been struck. But more interesting was Quirrell's reaction. He'd recoiled back, and was now doubled over on the floor, yowling in pain as he stared at his hand, now covered in boils where it had struck Harry.

Harry didn't know why that happened, and he didn't have time to try to work it out. As it was, he saw an opening. He knew he couldn't possibly face Quirrell in a duel and expect to last more than a few seconds. But whatever was happening to make the professor hurt from his touch… This he could use. So he lunged forward and grabbed at the Professor's face. His scar was burning, the epicentre of an overwhelming pain throughout his body, yet he didn't let go. Not when Quirrell began to howl, obviously hurting a lot more than Harry did.

Quirell was flailing, trying to get him off him, so Harry grabbed at his throat with his other hand, holding tight as the screams began coming from the horrible face on the back of the Professor's head as well. This filled him with renewed energy through the pain. He was getting to Voldemort, making him hurt like he'd hurt Harry. Even if this was hurting Harry in the process. He felt like his head was about to split open, and wasn't sure how long he could keep this up. It was only the knowledge that he was getting to Voldemort, and that if he stopped, he'd probably be killed, that kept him going.

"WHY WON'T YOU DIE ALREADY," he yelled, bringing a second hand to Quirrell's throat and pressing his fingers against the windpipe as the Professor writhed beneath him. He could feel the man's strength begin to wane as his screams sounded more and more choked. With an unholy whooshing noise, accompanied by screaming so loud and horrific Harry couldn't tell whether it was coming from him, Quirrell, Voldemort, or all in unison, he felt the rush of a malevolent presence leave Quirrell's body, and course through him, making him feel physically sick and knocking him back, forcing him to let go of Quirrell.

For a second, Harry worried the Professor was going to turn back on him, but if that had been Voldemort leaving, he apparently took whatever was left of Quirrell's energy and life force with him, for the Professor shuddered and gave up the ghost. That was the last thing Harry saw before being thrown against the mirror. After that, there was only darkness.

* * *

Faint noises began to penetrate through to Harry's mind, bringing him close to wakefulness. He could hear someone breathing over him, and as he fully processed this, the memories of his confrontation with Quirrell and Voldemort came flooding back. He opened his eyes as if jolted by electricity and straightened his torso, almost shouting before quickly realizing he was not in the small room with the mirror where he'd last woken up, but was, in fact, in a bed in the hospital wing.

The sound of breathing he'd heard, Harry now saw, had come from Professor Dumbledore, who was sat next to his bed, regarding him with a sorrowful expression.

"Harry, calm down," he said, and it was as if Harry could hear the weight of the professor's age on his voice.

Realizing he was safe, Harry collapsed back into the bed. "What happened?" he asked, closing his eyes as he shrunk under the covers. He remembered all too well what had happened, at least until getting hit by Voldemort's… ghost? Spirit? But of course, didn't know anything about what happened after he blacked out.

Dumbledore let out a sorrowful sigh. "I'm afraid I must apologize to you, Harry. I failed in my obligation to protect you," he began.

"I was called to London with an owl purporting to be from the Minister of Magic. However, it was obvious as soon as I got there, that I'd been deliberately drawn away from Hogwarts by a hoax. It was very foolish of me."

Harry nodded, trying to focus on the ceiling. Even after putting his glasses back on, his vision didn't feel quite steady. He let Dumbledore continue as he closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind.

"I rushed back as quickly as possible, but unfortunately I was not quick enough to prevent you being captured by Professor Quirrell. As I'm sure you discovered, he was being used by Lord Voldemort to try to steal the Philosopher's Stone…"

Harry nodded at this, the gesture filling his head with pain again.

"Yes, he thought it was in this weird mirror. Well, it only looked like a mirror. He thought I could get it out, even though he couldn't, but it'd only showed me making the Elixir of Life…" Harry trailed. He probably shouldn't have said even that. Dumbledore regarded him with sadness.

"Ah Harry, it seems that like many before you, you've fallen prey to the Philosopher's Stone's attractions. It's because of that that Nicholas and I have agreed that it should be destroyed…. But I'm getting ahead of myself." He didn't have time to continue before Harry interrupted him.

"Destroyed? But doesn't that mean… he'll die? And his wife too?" Harry asked, confused.

"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die," Dumbledore replied with a slight smile, as Harry's jaw dropped. "I'm sure that to you it seems unbelievable. But to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all-the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them."

Harry hummed noncommittally, not sure he really bought that, but not really wanting to discuss the matter either. He took a deep breath, dreading what he was about to say, but feeling compelled to say it anyway.

"Sir… Professor Quirrell… Is he.. dead?" Harry asked. He knew the answer. He remembered what had happened all too well.

"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore said, once again looking very forlorn. "You must not blame yourself," he added, trying to sound reassuring. "Once Quirrell allowed Voldemort to possess him, and then sustained himself with unicorn blood, it was always going to be a matter of time before he was unable to continue living. Voldemort has always found his followers disposable."

Harry trembled, looking at his hands. "But he.. He couldn't touch me." Harry remembered the struggle in the room under the trap door. Remembered the pain coursing through him. "It hurt me… But it hurt him a lot more… Do you know why that was, Professor?" Harry asked, trying to delay the inevitable… The question he really wanted to ask.

"When Voldemort came to kill you that night, your mother sacrificed herself to save you, out of her love for you. That's something Voldemort cannot understand, because he never felt love for anyone in his life. That sacrifice, caused by such powerful love, gave you some protection, Harry.. It is in your very skin. And because Quirrell had let Voldemort into his own body, it was agony to touch you."

It hadn't just been agony, though. Harry remembered the boils on Quirrell's skin. His screams as Harry kept touching him. Harry knew that he wanted to hear him scream. Hear Voldemort scream. He'd wanted them both dead.

"Sir… Did…" Harry swallowed a sob. He didn't want to cry in front of Dumbledore. "Did I kill Professor Quirrell?" He asked, looking at his hands again, reliving how it felt to feel them squeeze against Quirrell's throat, hearing his screams become weaker, and not letting go…. These were the hands of a killer, Harry knew, even before Dumbledore's reply, sadder than anything he'd said so far.

"It's hard to say… I can imagine you don't remember much of what happened, Harry," Dumbledore paused, trying to find the right words. Harry remembered exactly what happened, but didn't contradict the man as he went on. "It's likely the struggle with you weakened him so much that Voldemort found it better to just leave, rather than risk being caught by me. Quirrell was always going to die when that happened, regardless of what Voldemort may have told him. I don't think you should blame yourself, my boy. You were acting on instinct to protect yourself. I'm really sorry you had to be put in this position, Harry."

Harry wasn't sure if even Dumbledore believed his own words, but Harry definitely didn't. However, there was no point mentioning that. Dumbledore, sighing again, must have sensed Harry's discomfort, because he quickly changed the subject.

"You've had quite a few attempts at visitation. Mr. Nott and Miss Greengrass seemed particularly keen on making sure of your welfare. I understand they were quite worried when you didn't return to your common room. Professor Snape might have attempted to rescue you himself if I hadn't arrived in time."

Harry had his doubts about that. Snape had struggled to acknowledge Harry's existence at all throughout the year. But again, there was no point in arguing. He wanted to be alone.

"Can you please, let them know I'm alright… But to give me a little time alone?" Harry asked, almost in a whisper. Dumbledore nodded.

"Of course Harry, it's understandable that you'd want some time to gather your thoughts in a situation like this. Shall I tell them to come by after lunch?" he asked, and Harry nodded slowly at that.

As Dumbledore took his leave, Harry laid his head back on the pillow, his face contorted in a grimace. He felt tired, but that wasn't the reason. He could feel the pangs of hunger, which was only natural if he'd been laying there for days. But it was the knowledge of what he had done that haunted him.

Regardless of what Dumbledore had told him, Harry knew it was his fault. He knew he'd killed Quirrell, and what's more, had wanted to do it. He wanted to kill Voldemort too, even if he hadn't quite succeeded at that. How dare he suggest that he could ever want to join him, to work together with the man-if he could even be called that anymore-who'd murdered his parents and made his life the hell it was. Yet now… now that the moment had passed, he couldn't help but feel his parents would have been very disappointed in him. He felt disappointed in himself. He was a killer. Not exactly a murderer, but a killer nonetheless. Did he regret it?

Harry regretted the fact that he didn't regret it. He wondered what was happening to him. Was he actually turning into a dark wizard? Was it his fate to become like Voldemort? Was that why he had been sorted into Slytherin?

Harry was really glad that he'd asked for some alone time. Friends or not, he didn't want Ted and Daphne to see him like this, tears burning their way down his face as the events with Quirrell kept flashing through his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be the last one for year one, but I will not be posting a separate story for book two-updates will continue here.
> 
> I welcome all kinds of reviews, but I'd especially like to hear what worked for you, and what didn't.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is fairly short. In normal circumstances, I'd've added another scene to it, but because it's the last chapter of year one, I can't really do it, because I want to start year two with the next chapter.
> 
> Year 2 will be continuing in this fic. I will not be creating a separate 'book' for it.

_"There is no tomorrow tonight_   
_There's only the passion we feel_   
_The threat of the dawn's breaking light_   
_Has never seemed quite so unreal._

_The rapturous thrill of our hearts_  
 _Both bursting with desperate delight_  
 _Tomorrow will tear us apart_  
 _Oh, but there is no tomorrow_  
 _There is no tomorrow tonight."_  
Smoking Popes, _No Tomorrow Tonight_

Harry felt like he was lost in his thoughts for an eternity, but it really couldn't have been more than a couple of hours. Madam Pomfrey had briefly interrupted him to give him some foul tasting potions to drink, as well as actual food. Despite his mental distress, his growling stomach meant he couldn't ignore this entirely-he hadn't eaten for three days, after all.

Once he finished his meal, he felt slightly queasy. A cup of tea lay ignored on his bedside table, as the sight of Voldemort's grotesque face kept replaying itself before his mind's eye. He felt like he was about to retch if he kept thinking about this, yet couldn't find the mental energy to change focus until he was distracted by footsteps.

Harry turned to the direction the sound came from, and was greeted by the sight of a relieved looking Ted and Daphne. The former just gave him a smile and kept his steady pace, but Daphne, seeing he was awake, lunged forward and almost throttled him.

"Potter, you idiot," she greeted him as she grabbed the lapel of his pyjamas. "You almost died! Why did you leave us behind!"

Feeling like she'd made her point, she let go of Harry's clothes as Ted arrived at her side. Harry wasn't sure what to say. It was a good thing he had, because if they'd come with him, he wasn't sure they'd still be alive. Voldemort probably wouldn't have had any reason to not kill them. He doubted he'd've cared that Ted was Mr. Nott's son. On the other hand, Harry didn't know that he'd be meeting Voldemort when he left them.

Harry sighted, before picking up his wand from his bedside table and casting the privacy charms he'd learned from Alex Campbell-minus the door locking, for obvious reasons. He turned to his friends and began explaining.

"I didn't think I was going to be doing anything special. I just overheard Granger and Longbottom talk about checking the third floor corridor, and I wanted to see what they were up to."

Harry continued, describing what happened from the moment he'd left them at the Great Hall, to waking up in the room with the mirror, and his confrontation with Quirrell. When he began to describe his encounter with Voldemort, Ted and Daphne looked shocked, especially the latter.

"But… I thought you'd killed him," she said, shocked out of her usual glibness. Ted was a bit more pensive.

"I'm… not that surprised, now that I think about it…" he whispered, even though they were protected by privacy charms, glancing around to make sure no one was nearby despite that. "I don't think the Dark Lord's followers ever really believed he is gone," he said quietly, glancing at Daphne. "He must have said something… About being able to cheat death…"

Daphne swallowed as Harry weighted this in his mind. It made sense of everything. He didn't really think that a baby could have killed such a powerful Dark Wizard as Voldemort, regardless of whatever his mother might have done. He felt a tear come to his eye thinking of her sacrificial love for him, and resolutely pushed that thought to the back of his mind, before continuing with his story.

He thought about keeping his killing of Quirrell out of his account, but ultimately decided against it. They were his best friends, and it wasn't fair to make them continue to hang out with a killer without their knowledge. So he told them all about it.

"I wanted him to die," he said, all his effort going into making sure his voice didn't break. "It wasn't just an accident," he said in a flat voice. He finally turned and met his friends' eyes. "Am I a murderer?" He asked. "Am I evil?"

Ted gave him what he thought was a look of sympathy. But Daphne was a bit quicker in reacting, and before the taller boy could say anything, lunged at Harry and hugged him.

"Harry, you can't be agonizing over that.." she said as she pulled back, her hands still on Harry's shoulders. "Quirrell was trying to kill you, and he had You-Know-Who possessing him. You couldn't have done anything else," she told him, but Harry shook his head sadly.

"It's not that… It's that I _wanted_ to kill him. I didn't just want him to go away. I hated him. Quirrell and Voldemort. It's like…" Harry took a deep breath. "Like part of me was glad he was attacking me so that I had the excuse to kill him… Of course, I couldn't really differentiate between Quirrell and Voldemort…" Harry trailed as Daphne and Ted shuddered slightly at the name.

"Harry, The Dark Lord killed your parents," Ted finally said, taking a step forward and resting his hand on Harry's shoulder. "You wouldn't be human if you didn't want to get back at him. Imagine if Quirrell had succeeded. You'd probably be dead. A lot more people would be dead," he said, solemnly. Unspoken between them went the thought of what Mr. Nott would do if Voldemort was back. Harry swallowed, looking to Daphne, as if expecting her to contradict Ted.

She was quiet for a bit. It was odd seeing her being so silent and meditative. It felt like her silence lasted an eternity, but finally, she spoke.

"I'm glad you killed Quirrell, if that was the alternative," she spoke. Harry wasn't sure he couldn't have managed without killing him. "Even if it wasn't… He was willing to bring You-Know-Who back, and probably kill you." She swallowed before adding. "He deserved it."

Harry wasn't sure if his friends were saying this just because that was what they thought he wanted to hear. But there was a possibility they were both sincere, and Harry needed that possibility like a life raft. He jumped out of bed and pulled them both into a tight hug, before stepping back, ashamed of his sudden outburst.

"Thank you," he whispered. He was looking for something else to say when Madam Pomfrey burst in, and he barely had time to cancel the privacy charms before she noticed anything was off, and inquired where he'd learned them.

"That's more than enough now. OUT, if you want Mr. Potter to be able to attend the Feast tonight.

Ted and Daphne left with little protest, looking quite subdued, which was not that surprising after hearing Harry's account. He only hoped they didn't come to regret their initial reaction.

Harry swallowed all the potions the Matron pushed towards him, their foul taste barely registering with him, as he was too distracted by his own internal turmoil. Madam Pomfrey seemed to think he would be in severe danger to his health by attending the feast. She would have liked to keep him until the next day at least, but apparently Dumbledore had ordered that Harry attend.

Harry wondered why the headmaster thought that was so important, but welcomed the fact anyway. Anything to keep his mind busy. He asked Pomfrey for something to read, and she gave him a book on basic healing spells, with strict instructions not to attempt any of them until he was stronger. With a smile, Harry thanked her and kept himself busy making notes of the more useful ones until it was time for the Feast.

Once tea time came, Harry rushed down to the Great Hall, and took a seat between Ted and Daphne, which they'd saved for him.

"Thought you weren't going to make it," Ted whispered, as Harry looked around. The whole hall was decked in green and silver, with a huge banner behind the teachers' table featuring the Slytherin snake. There were quite a few looks directed his way, but fortunately Dumbledore's arrival quieted everyone down.

Taking a stand at his usual place at the table, the headmaster addressed the student body.

"Another year has passed. Hopefully you'll have managed to get a little learning into your heads... Just try not to forget everything during Summer break." He paused and looked around, before glancing backwards at the Slytherin banner.

"Now, I believe the house cup needs to be awarded…. But before I announce the totals, I believe it is time for some last minute points…" He glanced at the counters with a smile as some murmuring spread through the tables.

"Fear not, these will not alter the final ranking…" At this, Harry could feel a sense of relaxation spread through the Slytherin table, while the other houses looked disappointed. "But it is right that we recognize all achievements, no matter how late in the year. So, to Mister Harry Potter," Dumbledore looked at him and smiled, causing Harry to shiver and look away as the attention of the entire school was drawn to him. "For outstanding nerve and resourcefulness, I award fifty points to Slytherin."

This made the Slytherin table rise in applause, as it made their victory over Gryffindor the much greater. They ate and drank in high spirits, but the real party was in the common room. Slytherin had won not only the House Cup, but the Quidditch cup as well, even if Harry had been out of commission for the latter. From what his friends told him, this was much better, the end-of-year atmosphere adding to the excitement.

While he did not share as much of what transpired with Quirrell as he did with Ted and Daphne, he had to say something in the face of the barrage of questions he was met with, not just from his yearmates, but even from older students. So, only deviating from the truth at key points, he told them how he woke up from being stunned, and prevented Quirrell from stealing the Philosopher's Stone. He couldn't resist adding that he already knew about it beforehand.

He left out any mention of Voldemort, or of actually killing Quirrell, though, attributing his rescue to Dumbledore and only taking credit for a delay. He definitely didn't want any more people to know about that than already did. He'd rather not think about it at all.

His tale seemed to be well received. Another reason for avoiding any mention of Voldemort. In the privacy of the common room, some students weren't shy about expressing their sympathies, though most of them had the decency to do so only while they didn't think he was listening. Without any mention of the Dark Lord, though, it was just an instance of a student managing to fight a teacher, and getting house points for it.

Harry didn't exactly have a lot of experience with parties, but he thought this was a wild one. A few older students had managed to smuggle in some liquor, and while things never really got out of control (the prefects mostly stayed sober), it definitely gave events a riskier edge. While no one offered any of the firsties firewhisky, somehow they ended up drinking goblin cider. After one sip, Harry thought it was vile, but kept drinking it anyway.

After a while, it wasn't tasting so bad anymore. Ted got very quiet, just sitting next to Harry with a slightly dazed smile on his face, while Daphne got very talkative, trying to get the attention of a third year girl Harry didn't know, and who didn't look that happy as Daphne went on about her quidditch playing exploits and plans for next year.

Some of the other girls were acting a bit strangely too. Tracey insisted on resting her head on Harry's shoulder and giving him a very long hug. That wasn't something he was very used to, but he decided to go with the flow. It helped that Pansy was doing the same thing to Draco, who seemed to be enjoying it until he had to run to the bathroom, looking like he was about to be sick.

Millicent Bulstrode seemed hardly affected, and Crabbe and Goyle were just their usual dumb brute selves, especially once Draco ran off. Blaise was in animated talk with a group of second year witches. Harry actually managed to forget about Quirrell, about going back to the Dursleys, and have a very good night with his friends and classmates. Even if he woke up the next day with an altogether different kind of headache to the ones he had been getting all year.

* * *

After breakfast, which fortunately was held a bit later than during term time, they received their exam results. Harry had managed to pass even History of Magic, having come top of the class in Transfiguration, ahead of even Hermione Granger. He couldn't help but feel a little smug at that. He did pretty well in Charms too. Defence had been left unmarked, of course, and Potions was… well, passable, considering who taught it.

Soon they were making their way to the Hogwarts Express, which would take them all the way to London. For most students, that was a bitter sweet experience, but for Harry it was just bitter, as he'd no loved ones to be reunited with, only the Dursleys. But he tried to grin and bear it as best as he could.

On their way to the carriages which would take them to meet the train, he was approached by Hagrid.

"'Arry, meant ter give ye a present, but couldn't find ye before today," the half-giant said.

With his friends waiting politely, Harry was handed a leather-covered book. When he opened it, he saw that it was full of magical photographs of his parents.

"Owled all yer parents' old school friends, asking fer photos… Do yeh like it?"

Harry had to wait for a few seconds before he could speak without shedding the tears that were welling up in his eyes. "It's great, Hagrid…. Thanks," he whispered, and Hagrid understood, taking a step back and waving him goodbye in silence.

His friends also respected his need to be quiet until they'd taken a place in the carriages.

"What's with the weird skeleton horses pulling these?" Harry asked to try to diffuse the tension, but he was met with a weird look from Daphne.

"What horses? There's nothing pulling the carriages," she replied, but Ted shook his head.

"No, Harry's right. They're Thestrals," he said. Daphne's face lit up in recognition, but Harry was still at a loss.

"Thestrals?" he asked. Ted nodded again.

"You can only see them when you've seen Death," he explained with a sad whisper. Harry glanced at his friend, who looked the saddest he'd even seen him. He rested his hand on Ted's shoulder, who seemed to derive some comfort from that, even if they walked to the train in silence and no one spoke again until they were well on their way.

Predictably, Daphne was the first to break the silence.

"I've been thinking. Harry, your birthday is July 31, right?" Harry nodded.

"Well, dad can pick you up a few days before, and then we can throw a birthday party for you." She paused with a smile, and went on before Harry could object. "Now don't give me that 'You're already doing so much for me,' or other similarly noble excuses you're thinking of," she said curtly. "If it's a birthday party, we can even invite Ted." She turned to the taller boy as she went on. "It gets you out of that house for a day at least.

Ted gave her a wry smile. He looked a bit better. "Honestly, that sounds like a good idea Harry."

"Besides, as I told you, dad will have people over all the time. A lot of them will probably bring their kids. That's just how it works out. What's one more party among others."

"Alright." Harry was almost surprised by how little resistance he put up, but he did think that was a great idea, and he really wasn't in the mood now for pretending he didn't for the sake of politeness. "Thanks Daphne. I'll need that to keep me going through the Dursleys," he added with a wry smile.

Trying as hard as possible to block any thoughts of Quirrell, they spent the trip down to London planning their Summer, eating and reminiscing over the year. Harry almost didn't want the trip to end. But end it did.

Having changed into Muggle clothing, Harry dragged his baggage out of the train. Ted was being met by his father, and by unspoken agreement, said his goodbyes before that.

"I'll write. Both of you," he said, before running off to meet Mr. Nott.

After Ted took his leave, Harry and Daphne walked side by side down the platform, each pushing their own luggage cart.

"There he is, Mom, there he is, look!" Harry heard as a ginger little girl pointed at him. He felt himself turn redder than her hair as he urged Daphne on. His friend started laughing until she saw his expression, then just bit her lip.

"That looks like the youngest Weasley. You're looking at a whole year of that soon," she said with a smirk. Harry groaned while Daphne's eyes darted back and forth until they came to rest on a very tall man with a healthy head of golden blonde hair, combed strictly into a side part. He looked to be in his forties, and other than the difference in hair colours, looked remarkably like Daphne, down to their determined chin and light green eyes. He was dressed in a somewhat old fashioned way, wearing a tweed jacket and trousers. Unlike most wizards he'd seen trying to blend in the muggle world, at least he could pass for a farmer, or a country solicitor.

Daphne's face lit up when she spotted him. "Dad, over here," she called, confirming Harry's guess that this was indeed Christian Greengrass.

He strode towards them, giving Daphne a hug as Harry stood respectfully back, giving father and daughter their space.

"Dad, I'd like you to meet my friend Harry," Daphne said once she could step back. She elbowed Harry to come forward.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Greengrass," he said, as he took the hand Daphne's dad had offered.

"I don't suppose I can get you to call my Christian, can I? Never worked on me when I was your age either," he said jovially. Harry nodded with a grin as he continued.

"It's nice to meet you too Harry. Daphne's told us a lot about you."

"All good, I hope," Harry replied, a stilted smile on his face. He wasn't used to interacting with adults who weren't his schoolteachers, but he was going to be staying at the Greengrasses in a few weeks, so he should probably get used to it.

"Oh, nothing to raise my paternal ire, if that's what you're worried about. I'm assured your relationship is strictly platonic," the man said with a wry smile, causing Daphne to look away in embarrassment. Harry guessed this is where she got her penchant for this kind of jokes. Mr. Greengrass was extracting some parchments from the inside pocket of his jacket, which he handed to Harry, to his surprise.

"I haven't yet been able to find anything regarding your placement in your relatives' care," Mr. Greengrass said, frowning as Harry took the parchments from him with a quizzical look. "I hope to have some more information to share when you come to stay with us. However, I was able to find the information you requested on this Gaunt family…" He paused with a look of distaste.

"I must say that it's not exactly a very edifying set of stories. I hope you're not looking into this family for a role model of what it means to be in Slytherin House. As much as they boasted of their descent, I assure you that most of us former Slytherins do _not_ behave like that."

Harry shook his head. "No, sir, it's nothing like that. It's a bit of a long story, though…"

Mr. Greengrass nodded. "You can tell me when you arrive at our house, then," he said, to Harry's relief. He should have known that the man would want to know the reason for his interest. He'd have to come up with a suitably sanitized version of the story. Fortunately, he had a few weeks to do it.

"Which does remind me, I should probably have a chat with your relatives… I assume they're here to pick you up…" Harry nodded, feeling himself flush at this.

"My uncle Vernon should be waiting on the muggle part of the station…" he said. "He's not actually my blood relation. He's my aunt's husband," Harry explained, not wanting Mr. Greengrass to think he was actually related to Vernon. He wasn't that keen for them to meet at all, but he thought if Vernon knew some adult wizards were going to take him in for most of the Summer, he might be a bit more malleable, so he reluctantly went with it as they stepped through the barrier between the wizard and muggle stations.

Uncle Vernon was pacing outside, his already bright red face turning a shade of purple when he saw there was someone accompanying Harry. Mr. Greengrass, who'd donned a tweed flat cap once they'd stepped outside, advanced towards Vernon with forced joviality.

"Mr… Dursley, is it?" he began, almost forcing his hand into Vernon's for a shake. In an extremely broad Norfolk accent, Mr. Greengrass went on.

"Your nephew Harry's made very good friends with my daughter at school this year," he said, pointing to Daphne, who was standing back with Harry and trying to keep any obvious distaste from showing on her face as she observed Vernon. "It'd be our pleasure to have him over for a few weeks during Summer. I'm sure you and your wife will appreciate the break too," he added as a sweetener.

Harry could see two opposing impulses warring within Uncle Vernon: the one to make Harry miserable, and the one to not have to be around him or his 'freakishness.' Evidently, the latter won out, for after a bit of hemming and hawing he agreed. Harry suspected part of the reason for that was that meeting an adult wizard made him uncomfortable and he wanted the whole ordeal to be over as soon as possible.

"Splendid, splendid," Mr. Greengrass replied. "I'll be in touch. Daphne, we have Harry's contact details don't we?" he asked pointedly. At Daphne's nod, he turned back to Vernon and went on.

"I was thinking we'd pick him up about a couple of days before his birthday, so he could have a proper party. No, Mr. Dursley, it's quite alright, no trouble at all. We'll be in touch." He bade Daphne follow him, and she turned to Harry.

"Can't wait to have you over. Good luck with the muggles," she said, before giving him a firm hug.

"Say hi to the rest of your family for me. Nice meeting you Mr. Greengrass," Harry replied as he waved at them. He could see Mr. Greengrass wiping his hand on his trousers, and laughed. He clearly didn't appreciate having to shake Uncle Vernon's greazy paws.

"Come on boy," Uncle Vernon said, breaking him out of his reverie.

Harry followed him out of the station, glancing at Daphne and her father, who to Harry's surprise walked up to what looked like a regular, slightly beaten up Ford pick-up. Harry was surprised to see them use such a mundane mode of transport, until, with Daphne waving goodbye at him, it popped out of the parking space and into the middle of traffic, narrowly getting ahead of a red light.

Harry grinned and, resigned to spending a few weeks with the Dursleys, nodded at whatever Uncle Vernon was going on about as he took his seat in the car, already thinking of what next year had in store for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to Mordecai from the DLP forums for helping refine the concept of goblin cider: it's made using apples which the goblins grow underground, using dung from the Gringotts dragons for fertilizer. The dragon dung's magical properties enable the apple trees to grow without natural sunlight. It also tastes like dragon dung.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left reviews. I appreciate every single one. See you soon for year two.


	18. Year 2 - Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the beginning of year two. Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed.

_"I will rise up early and dress myself up nice_   
_And I will leave the house and check the deadlock twice_   
_And I will find a crowd and blend in for a minute_   
_And I will try to find a little comfort in it_

_And I will get lonely_   
_And gasp for air_   
_And send your name off from my lips_   
_Like a signal flare"_

The Mountain Goats, _Get Lonely_

The first thing Harry did when he got to Privet Drive was to tell the Dursleys in no uncertain terms that things weren't going to go on the way they had before he went to Hogwarts.

"What would Mr. Greengrass think when he comes to pick me up in a few weeks and sees all my school stuff locked way?" He was sure Mr. Greengrass wouldn't appreciate having his name used to threaten his family, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

"I'll do your chores and stay out of your sight," he said, waving his wand in the Dursleys faces. "I'll take my stuff upstairs to my room, and you'll leave me alone."

He was bluffing, of course, as he wasn't allowed to do magic outside school. But Mr. Greengrass definitely was, and Harry had made sure that Uncle Vernon knew Mr. Greengrass knew where he lived. He had been counting on the prospect of an actual adult wizard's visit (that wasn't Hagrid) being enough to make the Dursleys toe the line, and it seemed to have worked, for after a whispered conversation, they didn't follow him up the stairs as he dragged his trunk up to Dudley's old second room.

When night came, he remembered the parchments Mr. Greengrass had given him, with the records on Marvollo and Morfin Gaunt, and he decided to read them before going to bed. Mr. Greengrass had been right, it really didn't make for very nice reading. As befitted their status as official records, the documents made for very dry, but precise reading. Marvollo Gaunt had had a daughter as well as a son. Harry raised his eyebrow at that. He'd never seen any mention of Merope Gaunt before.

The whole family had been fond of doing magic in the sight of Muggles, blatantly disregarding the statute of secrecy. When an auror named Bob Ogden had visited them to discuss this, things had escalated, apparently when Morfin mentioned his sister's having a crush on the son of the local _Muggle_ squire. This was too much for Marvollo's notions of blood purity, and he attacked his daughter in Ogden's presence. Harry assumed the man must have been quite unhinged, especially if he couldn't even wait for the auror to be gone. He supposed that's what only marrying close relatives to maintain one's blood purity did.

After Ogden stopped Marvollo from killing his daughter, he'd had Marvollo and Morfin turn on him. He apparated away, but returned with more aurors, and father and son were imprisoned and sent to Azkaban.

For some reason, Marvollo had only been sentenced to six months imprisonment, while Morfin had served three years. Marvollo had been an old man, and Azkaban probably did him no favours, because he was dead shortly after being released.

After three years, Morfin Gaunt was released and lived in Little Hangleton until 1943, when he was arrested again, for murdering the local squire's family as revenge for his sister's taking up with the son. He had apparently been quite proud of this, and confessed readily when the aurors came for him. There was no trace of this Merope afterwards, but it was quite clear that Morfin had had no offspring. So the Gaunts were definitely extinct. At least by that name. This Merope, though. She'd taken up with the muggle squire? Yet there was no mention of her having been murdered by Morfin. And why did he confess so readily, anyway? He'd put up resistance before, but now just handed himself over to the aurors? There was definitely something strange going on here. He'd need to investigate further.

He hid the parchments at the bottom of his trunk, after making some notes on points for further research. Reminding himself to work out what to say to Mr. Greengrass about why he was so interested in this family, Harry settled into a fitful sleep.

* * *

The next day, after doing his promised morning chores, he took some of the muggle money he'd exchanged his galleons into, walked to Little Whinging's High Street, and bought himself a few second hand clothes at charity shops. While it wasn't worth spending much money on stuff he'd only be wearing for a month, or under his robes at Hogwarts, he was going to at least wear something that fitted him rather than Dudley's huge hand-me-downs.

He spent most of his first week working on his homework, trying to complete most of it while the concepts were still fresh in his mind. He wasn't expected to do any practical work over the Summer, because even wizard raised children were technically not allowed to do magic outside school, even if he knew from talking to his friends that this restriction was widely ignored. He couldn't wait to get to the Greengrasses and do magic again.

He sent letters off to all his friends with Hedwig, figuring it'd be best if his owl was kept out of the house as much as possible. He'd made sure to instruct them to use muggle post for the return letters, going via Daphne if necessary.

Soon his first return letters arrived, sent from an address in Norfolk. A large envelope contained two smaller ones, with a letter from Daphne and one from Ted. Both were written in parchment, but Daphne's envelopes were muggle, while Ted's was an old fashioned wizardly looking one.

Having long ago learned his lesson about keeping post safe from the Dursleys, he hid them until he was done with his chores for the day and was safely in his room to read them. He began with Ted's.

_Harry,_

_It was nice to hear from you so soon after holidays started! I hope the muggles aren't being too horrid. Father didn't notice the_ Pureblood Directory _was gone. He probably knows the contents by heart anyway. I was able to put it back safely without any issue._

_He's asked me a few questions about you. Nothing very invasive, and I was as vague as I could be. If he asks something else, do you want me to paint you in any particular light? I can make you look really formidable or average-I'll tell him whatever you feel more comfortable with._

_It's very lonely here. No one ever comes to visit. I really miss hanging out with you and Daphne._

_Speaking of Daphne, when will you be going to the Greengrasses? Daphne has actually convinced her father to let you invite me to your birthday party. That girl really can deliver! But, I have a surprise for you. It'll have to be before your birthday, but count it as a birthday present, will you? Can you meet me in Taunton sometime before you go stay with Daphne? I don't want to say anymore, but I promise you it'll be worth it._

_Yours,_

_Theodore Nott_

_P.S. - Have you looked at the Transfiguration homework? Stuck and could use some help._

Harry raised his eyebrow at this letter. A surprise? He definitely hadn't expected that. He supposed that's what made it a surprise. What did he need to go to Taunton for? He shrugged. He trusted Ted. He'd work out the logistics of getting there later. Before penning a reply, he turned to Daphne's letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_I hope the muggles haven't driven you mental yet! I suppose you're used to them. Dad thought your uncle looked awful, and I have to agree. It's a good thing you're not actually related to him!_

_Dad likes you, by the way. He says he's really looking forward to having you here. We're setting you up in a room next to mine. Astoria has an adorable celebrity crush on you. Please don't break her heart when you arrive! I'll try to keep her off your back in return!_

Harry could already hear Daphne's teasing tone at this, and he smiled even if he was blushing bright red.

_Dad says we can invite Ted over for your birthday, as long as we get other people as well. I was thinking Tracey and Blaise from our house. You're also friends with Morag McDougal from Ravenclaw, right? Would you like her to come? Anyone else?_

_Your birthday is on Friday. Would the Wednesday before work for us to pick you up? Dad can come round after he's finished at the ministry._

_How are you keeping busy? I've begun practicing for the Quidditch tryouts. I can't wait to have you here to have someone to practice again. I'll have to break it off for a while, because we'll be going to Canada for a couple of weeks soon. They don't really care about Quidditch there. They mostly play something called Quodpot._

_I'd normally tell you to not work too hard at the homework, but I don't want you to waste any of your time here doing it. Besides, if you're finished with it, you can help me with mine. Still, try to enjoy yourself._

_Love,_

_Daphne G._

He could almost feel the energy emanating from Daphne's letter. He supposed he was going to have to learn something about Quidditch after all. He noticed that the letter didn't say anything about any of the parties he might have to attend later on during his stay. He suspected Daphne didn't particularly like these either, and would be glad to have him to keep company. He also wondered if he'd be seeing anyone else from Hogwarts during these. Knowing his luck, he'd get stuck with Draco Malfoy sometime. He really wasn't looking forward to have to deal with the ponce while on holiday, but he supposed he'd cross that bridge when he got to it. With a sigh, he set about writing his replies.

_Hi Ted,_

_It's been great hearing from you. I'm sorry you have to be all alone in that house. I wish we lived closer and we could just find somewhere to meet up. Speaking of which, I'm very curious about your surprise! I should be able to get to Taunton, no problem. Can we meet up at the railway station?_

Harry wondered if Ted would be able to find it. He knew he barely knew anything about the muggle world. Still, that's why he was asking.

_Daphne says Mr. Greengrass will pick me up on the Wednesday before my birthday, so we could do this on Monday? It's easier to get around than at the weekend._

Harry bit his pen as he pondered what he wanted Ted to tell his father about him. Ideally the answer would be nothing, and of course Ted knew this, but Harry knew that if his friend was asked he had to answer something. Furthermore, he didn't want Ted to get into any unnecessary trouble on his account. He really wasn't happy with any alternative, but eventually came to a decision.

 _As for what to tell your father, as you guessed, try to say as little as possible. If he presses you, don't lie, but shade the truth with what he wants to hear. You can tell him how interested I am in my heritage. That sounds like something that'll impress him, and he may even know something about my family that we haven't been able to find. You can mention Quirrell if you must, but_ don't _mention his headmate, or any snake stuff._

Harry tried to shade his language in case his letters were being read by someone else, even if he didn't think they were, as Ted had been fairly free in his language. Still, it couldn't hurt.

_I'll let you keep your secret, but I'm really curious about what you have planned now. I've managed to keep the muggles in line. They know Mr. Greengrass is picking me up and that's keeping them on their toes. Write back, I'm going insane without doing magic over here._

_Your friend,_

_Harry J. Potter_

_P.S. - Copy of Transfiguration essay enclosed._

Harry put Ted's letter, Transfiguration essay and all, in its own envelope, and began to write his reply to Daphne.

_Daphne,_

_It's great to hear back from you so soon after holidays started. You'll have to let me know what Canada is like. The Durlseys never took me anywhere nice like that._

Harry had also never thought about what other countries' wizarding worlds were like. There probably were all sorts of weird magical animals in Canada. He wondered if that Sasquatch thing Dudley had seen on the telly a couple times was really a magical animal that muggles sometimes saw.

_I'm glad to hear your dad liked me. I was worried my uncle would make a really bad impression, but he could have been way worse. Please don't encourage your sister, though! But of course I'll be nice to her._

_Thanks for taking care of the party stuff for me. Yes, please invite Morag, Blaise, and Tracey. And Ted, of course. Glad you're not suggesting I invite Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Is he going to turn up to one of your dad's things?_

_Wednesday 29th works well for me. As well as any other day, anyway._

_I've finished half my homework already! There really isn't much for me to do here. I have chores but I can get them all done in the morning, and then I have nothing else to do. I can't wait to get the new textbooks for next year. At least I'll have something new to read, even if I can't practise any magic before getting to your place._

_Enjoy your trip, and again give my regards to everyone in your family. Just don't give Astoria any hopes!_

_Your friend,_

_Harry J. Potter_

Letter writing still didn't come very easily to him, but he was getting better at it. Why didn't wizards have something more like a phone? Then again, maybe they did and he just didn't know about it. There was so much he didn't know, he thought bitterly, as he tied the reply letters to Hedwig's leg and sent her off.

"Fly girl. Wish I could follow you out of this miserable place." He shut the window back and turned to his Potions homework. He was never that keen on the subject, mostly because he didn't know what to make of Snape's attitude towards him. He didn't treat him quite like a Gryffindor, but he never felt as favoured as any of the other Slytherins, even if he usually got by on partnering with Ted or Daphne-when Snape wasn't being sadistic and forced him to partner with a Gryffindor, or Crabbe. Marking of essays was another story, and Snape was free to show his opinion then, which usually comprised a lot of snarky comments on the text, but a passable grade nonetheless. Harry supposed he liked "foolish wand waving" too much to be truly good at potions, even if he sometimes caught a glimpse of the medium's best uses, when Snape was feeling particularly lyrical, and wished he could get better at it. He resolved to try and read the textbook again and see if his skills improved any this year.

The next few weeks went past in this routine of chores, homework, and letter writing. Oddly, he'd got a letter from Morag McDougal via Daphne. In it, she claimed she'd tried to owl Harry, but never got an answer. When Daphne invited her to Harry's party on his behalf, she'd written Daphne in surprise, and Daphne, in return, offered to forward her letter via the muggle post, telling Harry off for making her act as his secretary.

Harry grinned at Daphne's reaction, even if he was quite confused about why he'd not received Morag's letter. Stil, he apologized to her and was happy to find out she _was_ coming to his birthday party. They briefly changed to routing the letters via Tracey when Daphne's family went to Canada, but even though the month dragged for Harry, his birthday was soon on the horizon.

* * *

The twin Valentas screamed, powering Harry at one hundred and twenty five miles per hour down Isambard Kingdom Brunel's billiard table, enclosed within the relative safety and comfort of a High Speed Train. He couldn't exactly do his magical homework on the muggle train, so he sat looking at the landscape and drinking a cup of tea he'd got from the train buffet, thinking of his coming meeting with Ted in Taunton. He still had no clue what his friend's surprise was. He hadn't dropped any hints.

Harry had left Privet Drive before any of the Dursleys had woken up. He'd left a note, even if he didn't think they'd really care. He'd double up on his chores the next day.

As so often before, he found his thoughts drifting back to that fateful night when he'd been kidnapped by Quirrell, completely ignoring the lush summer setting outside the window. He still agonized over his actions that night. He had been managing to dwell on it less, but he wasn't sure that made things better or worse. Was he just accepting the fact that he had taken a human life? He tried to tell himself that he had had no other choice, but that only avoided the real reason for his worries: that he had wanted to kill Quirrell and Voldemort with him. He was worried that this rationalization was just going to make the next time easier-and he had some intuition that this was not going to be the last time that he would be in a position to kill someone. Voldemort was out there, and if he tried to return once, he was bound to try again. He still had followers out there, who had evaded justice. If they found their old master…. Harry shuddered.

His thoughts drifted to Mr. Nott. He knew he was one of them. He was afraid of what was going to happen if and when Voldemort returned. Would Ted be forced to pick between him and Voldemort? Even if he picked Harry-and even if he couldn't be one hundred percent sure Harry thought that's what he'd do-what was going to happen to him. From what little he knew about Mr. Nott, he didn't think that'd go down very well with him. Yet, he didn't think there was much love lost between Mr. Nott and Ted. Maybe that would work to his advantage. In the meantime, he was going to show Ted why he should side with him. Not only was he going to be his best friend, but also someone worth siding with against the Dark Lord. His green eyes burned with determination as he stepped out of the train at Taunton, slamming the door behind him and walking down the platform with a confident stride.

Harry hoped Ted had more sense than most wizards displayed when they ventured out into the muggle world. They usually looked like someone who'd just escaped from an insane asylum. Still, Mr. Greengrass, while not exactly the peak of fashion, showed that some weren't that clueless.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Ted waiting outside. He looked surprisingly like Mr. Greengrass had, making Harry wonder if there had been some guidebook to blending in the muggle world that just recommended wearing tweed everywhere.

"You look like you've stepped out of a 1930s period drama," he said as he approached his friend from behind, laughing when he jumped up in surprise.

"Harry, don't sneak up behind me," Ted said, joining his laughter. "I'm glad you're here, I can't make head nor tail of this bus timetable," he added, pointing at the posters on the outside of the train station.

"Well, I still don't know where we're going," Harry replied with a grin, though he stepped closer and examined the timetable. Ted pointed at one of the stops on the list, a place by the name of Godric's Hollow.

"Godric's? Any thing to do with Godric Gryffindor?" he asked in a whisper, but Ted just smiled enigmatically. Harry shrugged. Let him be mysterious if he wants. Harry checked his watch.

"Well, there's a bus in about ten minutes. Let's just find the stop," he said, looking outside, before setting off with Ted in his trail.

"Oh, shit," the taller boy froze. "I just realized I don't have any muggle money…"

"Relax, I've got us covered," Harry replied. As they walked to the bus stop, Harry was puzzling that in his head.

"Wait, if you don't have any muggle money, how did you get here? Surely you didn't walk here from Devon?" Ted gave him a sheepish grin.

"Well, no. I took the Knight Bus…" He replied.

"The what?"

"Oh yeah, you won't have heard of it, will you? It's really the most convenient way to get around if you're not allowed to apparate…." Ted quickly explained all about how to use the Knight Bus, only pausing when it came time to board the bus, which set off towards Exmoor.

Fortunately, the bus was not very full, so they could continue their conversation without any muggles listening in.

"So why aren't we taking the Knight Bus to this Godric's Hollow place?" Harry asked. "Hell, why didn't you just tell me and I could have taken it from Surrey." Harry wasn't exactly annoyed, as the trip had been pretty interesting, even if slightly expensive, but it still didn't make sense to him.

Ted looked a bit embarrassed, but after hemming and hawing for a couple of minutes, finally admitted it. "I.. was just curious to see a bit more of what the muggle world was like," he admitted. "I didn't really want to do it alone, I don't really know what I'm doing, and I'd probably look like a total idiot…" He spoke way too fast, and Harry had to squeeze his arm to make the torrent of words stop.

"It's alright. I got you," he added with a smile. "I hope a bus trip isn't the whole reason you dragged me here, though…" he trailed, but he was actually quite pleased. This curiosity was completely spontaneous, and bode well for Ted's repudiation of pureblood supremacism being genuine. He filed that away, turning his attention back to his friend, who was shaking his head.

"Oh, of course not. We can even get back by Knight Bus, although I'd probably recommend you take the muggle train back home. It's not really very pleasant over long distances… Anyway, no, there's something in Godric's Hollow that I think you need to see…" he trailed. "Something someone should have shown you a long time ago, if you ask me."

He wouldn't be drawn on what it was, so they talked about their Summer and his upcoming stay at the Greengrasses instead. The bus took the better part of two hours to get to their destination, taking a very roundabout way through narrow country lanes that criss-crossed their way across the Somerset moors. It was a glorious English Summer day, and the moors looked beautiful, spreading out ahead of them, deserted except for small clumps of houses scattered in small villages. A few clouds shaded the land here and there, but mostly the sun shone, making the landscape look quite inviting for a walk. Still, Harry was glad when he finally saw the sign for Godric's Hollow on the side of the road. Ted had been looking a bit green for the past few minutes.

Harry gave Ted a little time for his stomach to settle, while he looked around the village's High Street, if it could be called that, as it only consisted of a dingy pub and a Post Office with a few shops nearby, clustered around what looked like a cenotaph. To the side was an old church with a cemetery by the grounds. Once Ted recovered, he wordlessly beckoned Harry to follow him there.

As they walked in silence, Harry looked at the gravestones, wondering why his friend had decided to bring him here, before a suspicion began to form in the back of his mind. This was soon confirmed, as they came before a gleaming white gravestone, bearing the inscription:

_JAMES POTTER LILY POTTER_

_BORN 27 MARCH 1960 BORN 30 JANUARY 1960_

_DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981 DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981_

_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death._

Harry's breath stopped in his throat as he realized he was looking at his parents' grave. "Mum? Dad?" he knew they couldn't answer him, but he couldn't help himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ted take a few steps back, standing at a respectful distance to give Harry some privacy.

More grateful to his friend than he knew how to express, Harry took a step forward and touched the headstone, running his fingers over his parent's names.

"I'm sorry I didn't come before today. I had no idea where you were buried. Aunt Petunia never told me anything," he explained bitterly. Of course he knew that his parents weren't really listening to him, and yet, a memory of Dumbledore's 'next great adventure' words clung to his mind. That and the idea that the Resurrection Stone might be real and out there for him to find gave him a glimmer of something he didn't even know what to call, but might just be hope. Hope that there was something out there beyond the great charm from which no man returned.

"It was my friend Ted's idea to come here. He's doing it for my birthday. I'll be twelve years old this week. I've just finished my first year at Hogwarts. I'm in Slytherin house. I know you were both Gryffindors. I hope you're not disappointed in me. It's not really so bad as everyone makes out…"

At the edges of his awareness, Harry could feel Ted getting restless, then going for a walk through the graveyard. He was actually thankful. He could feel his eyes welling up with tears, and now wasn't so worried about letting them spill down his face.

He stayed by his parents' grave for a while, telling stories from his first year at Hogwarts, before he felt he'd really had better be going. He was running out of material, anyway. There was not much he could say to parents he'd never met, and he very much didn't want to mention anything to do with Quirrell. He couldn't help but worry his parents would have thought him a murderer.

Ted had come back from his wander and was giving him an excited look, even if he was still giving him space to mourn. Still, that was enough to kindle Harry's curiosity. So he said his goodbyes.

"I have to go now. But I'll be back. I promise I'll make up for the lost time." He traced his fingers along the stone again, this time really noticing the inscription. The Dursleys never having had much concern with religion, Harry didn't know it was actually a quote from the First Epistle of Paul the Apostle to the Corinthians. Still, as it was, he took it as a good omen for his quest for the Resurrection Stone. "And if that stone actually exists on this earth, I will find it, and I will bring you back," he whispered, his dark green eyes determined, now more than ever. He had found himself a purpose that transcended Voldemort and his status as the Boy-Who-Lived.

He wiped the tears from his eyes and face before turning around and facing Ted again. Before his friend could react, Harry closed the distance between them and pulled him close in a tight hug.

"This was the best gift I could ever ask for," he said, struggling to keep the tears from streaming down again. "You are a great friend, Theodore Nott."

Harry saved using his friend's full christian name for especially solemn moments, when he knew Ted just wouldn't cut it. So he felt him return his hug with more feeling than he expected, before they parted, both slightly embarrassed at letting their emotions overwhelm them like that.

"I just thought you deserved this… When my mother died.. I spent days by her grave. I can't imagine what not being able to do that would be like…"

They stayed silent for a couple minutes, both trying to get their emotions under control. Harry began walking away, but Ted grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"I took a walk around the graveyard while I was waiting," he began, reminding Harry that Ted had seemed like he'd found something curious. "I found a couple of very interesting graves."

Even if that was a slightly macabre thing to say, Harry didn't think Ted would take him to see some random gravestone without good reason, so he followed his friend to a very overgrown section of the cemetery. Most stones in that area were completely illegible, but Ted led Harry to a specific one. It was still very weathered, but a symbol he'd seen before could still be made out.

"That's…. That's the Peverell crest…" he whispered, almost afraid that someone else would overhear them. Ted nodded.

"Yes, the same crest that's on the Gaunts' ring. And look at this." Ted knelt by the gravestone and pointed at what Harry could now see was an extremely weathered, but still barely readable, inscription.

"Ignotus…" Harry whispered again, his eyes widening at the realization that he was standing by the grave of his distant ancestor.

Somehow, Harry felt very heartened to find this. Now only was he standing by the grave of an ancestor almost a thousand years removed from him, a connection to a family he didn't know he had a year ago, but somehow it made his quest for the other Peverell brothers' possessions feel more real and achievable.

"Hello great, great, great grandfather," he said with a smile. "Missed a few dozen greats there. Thanks for the invisibility cloak," he added, glancing at Ted with a grin. He took a step back. "I'll make you proud. And when I can, I will restore your gravestone to the state it deserves." He added the last bit impulsively, but he didn't regret it. He could more than afford it, after all.

There wasn't as much reason to linger here, so he turned back to Ted. "Did you find any more Peverells?" Harry asked, remembering Ted had mentioned a couple graves.

Ted shook his head. "No, this is something a bit more recent," he said, pulling Harry by his arm to a more recent section, not so far from Harry's parents' grave.

"No relation of yours, I think, but I'm sure you'll recognize the name," Ted explained as he finally pointed at a lichen-covered granite gravestone, proclaiming it to be the resting place of _Kendra Dumbledore_ _and her daughter Ariana_.

Harry's eyebrows rose at this sight.

"Dumbledore's… mother and… sister?" he said, examining the dates on the stones. Ariana Dumbledore had only lived a very short life, dying at the age of fourteen.

"The dates seem about right," Ted replied, before adding in a somber tone. "That's really sad," looking at Ariana Dumbledore's grave. "Do you think he still remembers her? He's lived a very long time…"

"Maybe… Maybe that's why he's not quite right in the head," Harry replied, suddenly feeling compassion for the headmaster he previously regarded as just insane. It was interesting and slightly sobering, but there wasn't much point in them lingering. Harry consulted his watch.

"Shall we go get something to eat?" he asked. Ted followed him towards the gates of the cemetery.

"We're not quite done for the day," he said with a smile. "There's something I want to show you quickly first, then something else that'll take a bit longer. We can eat in between," he added, leading Harry back into the high street and towards the war memorial.

Harry was wondering if there was something special about it, when the memorial seemed to flicker before his eyes. When they were just a few yards away, it transformed completely, from the usual cenotaph into a statue of three people, a man, a woman, and a baby. Harry's mind flew back to the photos he'd seen of his parents, instant recognition making him lunge forward and grip the statue's base. He never thought there'd be a statue.

Ted stood back again, letting Harry take his time, but he didn't spend as long there as he had at his parents' graves. After a few minutes, he turned back.

"A statue erected by the wizarding community, in gratitude to you and your parents," Ted explained as they walked back down the high street. This left a bitter taste in Harry's mouth.

"Too bad their gratitude didn't extend to not making me live with my horrible relatives for ten years," he snapped, before sighing. "Sorry, I know that's not your fault… It's just, seeing all this, it just reminds me of how much I've lost…"

Ted gripped Harry's shoulder softly. "That's why I brought you here. I wanted you to know, and see, at least as far as I could. And we're not done yet. But you're right, it's time to eat."

Harry gave his friend a grateful smile as they walked in silence to one of the shops. Ted was fascinated by the fridges containing sandwiches and cold drinks. Worried he was acting a little too strangely and might arouse the shopkeeper's suspicions, Harry let him wander around the shop while he picked and paid for something for the two of them.

The summer sun was now high in the sky, and the two friends sat amiably on a bench in the church yard where they could bask in the heat and see the moors spread out ahead of them, the heather just beginning to bloom and creating pink pockets here and there where the plants were more exposed to the sun.

Ted was looking curiously at his packet of salt and vinegar chips, so Harry demonstrated how he was supposed to open it, before biting into his hot pasty. A breeze was blowing just the right amount to take the edge of the heat, and he felt at peace for the first time in a while. He was even able to forget about Quirrell and Voldemort, and for one brief moment, felt almost like a normal (almost) twelve year old, out for a day with his best mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate all reviews, and they spurr me along to continue writing. Please consider leaving one, letting me know what you think of the latest chapter.


	19. Year 2 - Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think I've had more reviews for the last chapter than I've had for a while. Thank you very much to everyone who left them. Before I fire off some individual replies, here's a couple of notes that I forgot to include at the end of last chapter.
> 
> Despite his name sound like one of the zaniest Harry Potter characters, Isambard Kingdom Brunel was actually a real person. Among many other achievements, he was the Chief Engineer of the Great Western Railway. The Great Western Mainline is often referred to as Brunel's 'billiard table' because of how flat and straight it is, especially compared to other railways built in the nineteenth century.
> 
> The Paxman Valenta is a V12 diesel engine which originally powered the High Speed Train power cars, even if the surviving examples have all been replaced with more modern engines. Its screaming noise while powering through stations was iconic.

" _When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd,  
_ _And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night,  
_ _I mourn'd, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring._

 _Ever-returning spring, trinity sure to me you bring,  
_ _Lilac blooming perennial and drooping star in the west,  
_ _And thought of him I love. "  
_ Walt Whitman

"So, this looks like a muggle village. How come my parents, and Ignotus Peverell, and Dumbledore's family, are buried here?" Harry asked as he finished his meal.

Ted had to finish chewing before replying.

"Godric's Hollow is one of a number of villages throughout the country that have had a few wizarding families living there for generations, even after the Statute of Secrecy was passed. As you guessed, this was Godric Gryffindor's place of origin. I'm sure it was named something else before, and they changed it when he became famous," he explained, adding the last bit with a grin.

As Ted finished his food too, they rose, and Harry stood looking at his friend expectantly.

"Well, you said you had something else in store," he said, looking around the village.

Ted nodded. "Follow me," he added, as he tugged at Harry to come down a narrow street, lined with ancient looking cottages. They walked in silence. Harry was just enjoying the sights of the countryside now, feeling mostly at peace as he determinedly shoved any thoughts of Quirrell away from his consciousness. It was only when they reached the end of the row of cottages that he noticed.

The last cottage lay surrounded by an overgrown hedge, and most of it was still standing, even if it was covered in ivy. However, a side of the top floor had been blown up, and rubble still lay on the garden below, testimony to its abandonment for a decade. Harry didn't need Ted to explain. He knew this had been his parents house.

He glanced at his friend. "Do you think we can go in?" he asked him, his voice almost breaking again.

Ted nodded. "It's _your_ house, now. You own this. I should be asking your permission," he said with a small smile, trying to put Harry at ease.

Harry laughed. "I suppose it is, isn't it?" The idea of owning a piece of real estate was very strange to him, no matter how much he knew he was fairly well off. He touched the gate, looking for the lock, when a sign rose out of the ground, obviously by magic. It bore the following inscription, in golden letters:

_On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981,  
_ _Lily and James Potter lost their lives.  
_ _Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever  
_ _to have survived the Killing Curse.  
_ _This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left  
_ _in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters  
_ _and as a reminder of the violence  
_ _that tore apart their family._

Harry frowned at this. Apparently, despite him owning the house, no one had bothered to ask him what he wanted. He'd just been a child, true, but it still didn't sit very right that someone had been making these decisions about his property. He didn't particularly want people to come traipsing around and gawking at his old bedroom.

Around the inscription, many witches and wizards had added their own testimonials, mostly just writing their names. Did this mean the site of his parents' murder had become some kind of tourist destination? He understood that people felt grateful, but he still didn't particularly like it. Maybe they should have shown their gratitude by giving him a proper childhood.

He sighted, shaking his head. There was no need to dwell on that again. He bid Ted follow him, and they passed through the gate and navigated the weeds and bushes colonizing the garden, until they made it to the front door. It was not locked, and they passed into the house without any trouble.

It didn't look like anyone had been in since that fateful night, when Hagrid had taken him away from the scene of the attack. The floor and any remaining furniture were covered in a decade's worth of dust. Ted pulled his wand out from goodness knows where, and cast a cleaning charm by muttering " _Tergeo_ ," before Harry could stop him.

"Won't that get us in trouble?" he asked, his eyes widening.

Ted shook his head. "No one has lived here for a long time. They'll chalk it down to people visiting." Indeed, no owls from the Improper Use of Magic Office appeared to disturb their exploration, and the place did look a lot better without all the dust covering every surface.

Harry and Ted first explored the ground floor, which looked relatively unscathed compared to the first floor, which is obviously where the big confrontation happened. Still, there were some scorch marks and broken furniture near the stairs, probably from spell damage.

As expected from a wizarding household, the living room contained a sofa but no telly. There was, however, a wizarding wireless, a few books, a small dining table, and a number of toys littered around. Harry felt his eyes water again, quickly turning his back and walking back into the hallway. He didn't know if he could stomach going upstairs.

"Are you alright?" Ted asked him.

Harry nodded. "Yeah… it's just a bit too much. This is like… the childhood I never had… That I _would_ have had. Just give me a moment."

Nodding, Ted went a couple of steps into the Kitchen to give Harry some space. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he began to go up the stairs. "Alright," he called, at which Ted began to follow him again.

The first floor was, as predicted, in a much worse condition. What had obviously been Harry's room, judging from the wallpaper and what little furniture remained, had been entirely blown apart and left exposed to the elements for a decade. Now safe in the knowledge that they were safe from getting in trouble over casting spells unsupervised, both Harry and Ted got to work cleaning the place, removing the mould from the walls and furniture and the dust and cobwebs from everywhere.

"You should take a lot at your parents' bedroom," Ted suggested. "There _may_ be family papers or heirlooms in there. I don't know if anything of value will have survived ten years without someone just stealing it, though. Not when you can just walk in."

Nodding sadly, Harry stepped into the master bedroom. This was not nearly as damaged as his bedroom had been. Not only had it not been destroyed by a curse, but it had not been exposed to the elements to nearly the same degree. The room was sparsely furnished, containing only a bed, a chest of drawers, and a wardrobe. Harry tried opening the wardrobe and the drawers, but the contents of the room had long since been removed.

"There's nothing here for me," Harry sighed as he shut the last drawer close. "I don't know what I was expecting, really. Some ancient book of secret spells only my family knew?" he gave Ted a wry grin.

Ted nodded. "Yeah, it makes sense. Everything of importance will have been taken by whoever executed your parents' estate. That'd usually have been you if you were an adult, but…" he trailed, as Harry nodded.

"I bet it was Dumbledore," Harry replied. "He had Ignotus' invisibility cloak, after all, and that was a family heirloom…"

"Well, you could ask him," Ted replied. He thought for a second. "But first, check your vault at Gringotts. He may have just dumped everything there. That's what I'd do, to be honest. Didn't you say he had your key?"

"Yeah, that makes sense. I'll hold off until we go to Diagon Alley, then," Harry replied, before turning around with a sigh. "Alright, let's go. This is really depressing me," he said. Nodding somberly, Ted followed him down the stairs and back outside. As they were about to leave the garden, Harry turned around for one last look at what could have been his childhood home, and sighed.

Ted squeezed his shoulder again. "You alright?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. "No, but I'll be. Come on," he replied, pulling his friend by the arm. "Let's go for a walk. I need to clear my mind."

They made their way up the lane, back towards the High Street. They saw an ancient looking woman in the garden of one of the houses, and Harry briefly met eyes with her. She looked even older than Professor Dumbledore, and that was saying something.

He was slightly startled when he actually heard her voice speaking to him.

"Another Potter boy? Are you James' brother?" she asked, her eyes looking vaguely at him and Ted.

"Uh, no m'am," Harry replied. "I'm his son, Harry. Did you know my father?" Despite not being sure the old girl was all there, Harry was curious now.

"Oh, of course, of course, James is an only child, isn't he? My, how old is he now?"

"Erm, he's dead, m'am. Died ten years ago. I'm just turning twelve in a few days," Harry replied, slightly less sure that he wanted to carry this conversation on now. He didn't have any obvious way out yet, though.

"Oh, that's right. You must excuse an old woman's memory. And who's your friend?" she asked, turning to Ted.

"Erm, I'm Theodore Nott, m'am," he replied, sounding as awkward as Harry felt.

"Nott? Are you Cantankerus' boy?" she asked, a spark of something flickering through her eyes for a second.

"Erm, that was my grandfather, m'am," Ted replied, looking slightly alarmed.

"Grandfather? My, how time flies. I suppose you two are on your holidays from Hogwarts," she said, confirming Harry's suspicions that she was a witch. "Is old Binns still teaching History of Magic?"

Just how long ago had Binns been dead for, anyway, Harry wondered as he nodded.

"Still using my textbook too?" she asked. _Her textbook?_ Ted clearly had the same idea.

"Are you Professor Bagshot, m'am?" he asked, remembering the author's name before Harry.

"Bathilda Bagshot, that's my name," she replied curtly. "I guess that's a yes, then. I suppose I better offer you some tea. You can tell me if Cuthbert Binns has learned to talk about anything but Goblin Rebellions," she added, beginning to walk towards her house. "Well, come on, don't just stand there," she barked.

Ted and Harry looked at each other. She obviously wasn't going to take no for an answer, and while they _could_ probably just ditch her and run away, not only was that contrary to _both_ their upbringings, but, well, she had apparently known at least Harry's father, and he was curious about anything to do with his parents. So, by mutual, silent agreement, they opened the gate and followed her through the slightly unkempt garden into her house.

The house smelled a bit like old Mrs. Figg's had, even though there didn't seem to be a cat in sight. It was clean, but slightly disorganized, with what looked like many years' worth of trinkets, newspapers, and other odds and ends piled up at the corners.

She settled them in the living room and went into the kitchen to make tea. Harry leant from his place on the sofa to look through the threshold, checking that she wouldn't burn herself or forget what she was doing. Reassured that she wasn't about to burn the house down, he glanced aside at Ted.

"Let's just get this over with as soon as possible," his friend whispered, as Harry was looking around at the many wizarding photographs adorning the mantlepiece. He rose from the sofa and began admiring them. He assumed most of them to be the woman's relations, even if most looked really old-at least insofar as he understood fashion in wizard's clothing and hairstyles, which wasn't much.

He was so lost in contemplation that he heard neither Ted getting up to come beside him and check what he was looking at, nor the old crone arriving with the tea, which she was levitating in a tray ahead of her.

"Admiring my photos, are you?" she barked, startling Harry. He turned to look at her, slightly embarrassed at any perceived lack of decorum, but the old girl just cackled. "Clever. What house are you boys in?" she asked as she gestured with her wand to make the teapot pour tea into their cups.

"Slytherin," they both answered simultaneously.

"Figured. You both have that look about you. Bet your brother didn't like that very much, did he?" she asked, turning to Harry, who didn't bother to correct her again. "Was in Ravenclaw myself, so never had time for that nonsense. But you're not likely to see many photos like those anymore."

"Oh?" Harry asked, glancing at the pictures, as the old bat grabbed a specific one, depicting two young men with their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders. One of them seemed very vaguely familiar, while Harry was positive he'd never seen the other, blond one before.

"Know who's in this picture, son?" she asked. "But let's all sit down, my legs can't take this anymore."

Nodding, Ted and Harry sat down either side of Bagshot's on the musty old sofa. "You wouldn't know it, of course, but that's your Albus Dumbledore in this picture," she finally explained, after taking a sip of her tea, which was being kept at just the right temperature by magic.

Harry and Ted's eyes widened at that. "Did you know Professor Dumbledore when he was young?" Harry asked. How old was this woman, after all.

"Oh yes, knew the whole family when they first moved here. They didn't live here for generations like your family," she said, facing Harry. "Only moved here after their father got in trouble for attacking some muggles."

Harry glanced at Ted with a raised eyebrow. Well, that was some interesting information.

"Yes, and always so haughty, never giving us the time of day. Of course, they were just too afraid anyone might find that squib child they kept locked inside the house."

Harry and Ted's eyes widened at that. As Harry had quickly learned from his housemates, a Squib was someone born to wizard parents, yet without any magic, like the Hogwarts' janitor, Mr. Filch. "Would that have been Ariana?" Harry asked, taking the lead of the conversation. "We saw her grave at the cemetery," he explained.

"That's right son. That Kendra Dumbledore was thoroughly ashamed to have a Squib daughter. Very haughty woman, she was. Looking at her you'd never guess she was a Muggle born. Truth be told, if she hadn't died first, no one would have been surprised to hear she'd dispatched her daughter herself."

Harry was horrified by that. He felt a chill run through his spine at the thought of a parent doing such a horrible thing to a child. For something she had no choice in.

"Yes, back then squibs were considered a shame, people tried to hide them as much as they could. Sent them to muggle school, the lot. In a way it was more merciful, rather than keeping them around as second class citizens like that poor Argus Filch. I daresay Dumbledore keeps him around Hogwarts to make himself feel better about his sister… But where was I?" She looked confused now, like she'd derailed her train of thought. She flicked her wand and poured them all some more tea.

"Erm, this picture," Ted reminded her, pointing at the photograph of young Dumbledore and his still nameless friend. "Oh, right, well, that's the thing, isn't it? When Kendra died, Dumbledore had to come back from Hogwarts to lead the family. Didn't suit the little prodigy. That is, until this boy showed up," she pointed at the blonde young man in the picture. "Do you know who that is? Bet you'd never guess."

Of course, neither of them had any idea. "Gellert Grindelwald. You'd never believe it, but they were best of friends. Thick as thieves since he showed up one day. They were both as brilliant as each other, you see. Some say they were _more than friends_ , if you know what I mean. I never saw it myself, but of course, they wouldn't discuss that in polite company."

Harry had some vague memory of reading about Grindelwald being a dark wizard who'd been defeated by Dumbledore in 1945. Ted had a look of recognition in his eyes, so Harry just resolved to ask him later. Instead, he nudged the old girl on.

"But, didn't Dumbledore fight Grindelwald?" Harry asked, that being the only fact he knew about this person.

"Yes, even if it took him a while to do anything about it. Rather stay holed up at Hogwarts. That says a lot, doesn't it? Even after they fought, he still didn't want to go after his old friend. But what you won't know, is that that wasn't the first time they fought. One day, the whole three of them, Aberforth, Albus, and Gellert Grindelwald, got into a spell fight. And at the end, Ariana was dead," she announced ponderously.

"Who's Aberforth?" Harry blurted out, confused by Bagshot's incoherent storytelling.

"Dumbledore's brother. Bet he's not that proud of that association nowadays either. Caught performing inappropriate charms on goats. Kendra must have rolled in her grave at that," she cackled, and this time, both Harry and Ted had to suppress a laugh as well.

"Of course, the two were never on good terms after that duel. Why, they were almost at each other's throats at the wake. Aberforth all but accusing Albus of murder. Then he punched him in the face like a muggle. And Albus said nothing. Didn't even try to defend himself. Don't you think that's strange, boys?"

She was looking very triumphant at that revelation. Harry really didn't know what to think. Could it have been some sort of accident? But he wasn't about to voice any opinion now. The old woman probably hadn't talked to anyone in ages, and was enjoying listening to the sound of her own voice.

"Of course with the girl out of the way, Albus was free to go back to Hogwarts and be as brilliant as he'd always dreamed. He may have been in Gryffindor, but he was ambitious like a Slytherin. Grindelwald was never seen here again, of course. Rumour was they'd had a falling out. Maybe he was the one who actually killed the girl. We never knew what the reason for that duel was, either."

She was quiet for a few moments. Harry and Ted were looking at each other in puzzlement. "So how's old Cuthbert Binns doing at Hogwarts? Seems to me like no one coming out of Hogwarts nowadays cares one whit for History of Magic. Not like when I was teaching. Back in my day…"

She now looked to have forgotten everything about Dumbledore, and ranted about the declining standards of teaching History. Harry and Ted had no trouble giving their enthusiastic agreement to this, having had to suffer the torture of Binns' lectures.

After going on for quite a bit about the proper study of History of Magic, long after all tea had been drunk, the old woman finally seemed to lose energy. Her eyelids drooped and her speech became slurred, before she fell asleep mid-sentence, just as she was discussing sending a letter to Dumbledore. Harry hoped she'd forget about that too. He'd prefer if the Headmaster remained ignorant of this visit.

Slowly rising from the sofa, and moving silently to not wake Bagshot up, and possibly subject themselves to another repetitive diatribe, they left the house, remembering to return the picture of Dumbledore and Grindelwald to the mantlepiece and cast a locking charm as they closed the door. It wouldn't do for some muggle to wander in, trying to rob the house, and stumble upon all the magical artifacts laying about.

As they slammed the gate and walked back up the lane towards the High Street, Harry's mind was racing.

"That was very strange," Ted said calmly. "Before we even talk about what just happened, I need to tell you something before I forget."

Harry nodded at his friend, giving him an encouraging glance. "Do you remember when you saw the Peverell crest for the first time?" At Harry's further nod, Ted went on. "I told you I thought I'd seen that symbol somewhere before, but couldn't remember where. Well, I remember now. It was in a book I read about the wizarding war against Grindelwald. That was his symbol. The symbol he used for his movement."

Harry turned to stare at Ted. "What? But… that makes no sense. What does that have to do with the Peverells?"

"I have no idea," he replied. "It could be a coincidence… But it'd be a very strange one, if so. There's still more to this than meets the eye, I'd bet." He looked frustrated, but Harry shrugged.

"Well, nothing's ever simple when it comes to me, is it?" He gave his friend a sad smile. They had walked through the High Street and were now walking away from the village in a different direction, towards the moors. "We'll keep digging. We'll find something. What about that stuff about Dumbledore being Grindelwald's lover. Do you think she's making all of that up?"

"Well, now that I think about it, Dumbledore's robes have always been a little too flamboyant," Ted replied with a grin.

Harry shuddered. "If there is something I don't want to think about, it's Dumbledore being _anyone's_ lover. I know he was young once, but I can barely convince myself that he's that man in the picture."

"I know what you mean. He just seems like he's always been one hundred years old."

"Anyway, while that was very interesting gossip, at the end of the day I don't really care what Dumbledore was doing with Grindelwald last century, or who he likes to shag. I'm more interested in that symbol. What happened to Grindelwald anyway, after Dumbledore beat him?" Harry asked.

"Imprisoned in his own castle of Nurmengard. A bit ironic, that."

"Surprised they didn't hang him," Harry said, absentmindedly, remembering Uncle Vernon's rants whenever any story about crime came on the telly.

"Dumbledore probably asked them not to. He was his ex-boyfriend, after all," Ted replied with a grin. "Mind you, they wouldn't have hung him. In this country they used to execute criminals by throwing them through a veil in the ministry that supposedly leads to 'The Other Side.' Of course, no one has actually returned from going through it, so no one actually knows what happens to the people who go through. But apparently you can hear dead people whispering to you if you step too close," Ted added somberly. Harry could guess what was going through his friend's mind, but he shook himself out of it adding. "But I don't know how they'd've done it on the continent. Probably not hanging, though. That's too muggle."

"I should have figured," Harry replied. "But maybe in some cases that'd be appropriate. What could be more humiliating for someone who hated muggles?" Harry had a vision of hanging Voldemort. Or rather what he had built up as his vision of Voldemort, mostly from how he had looked like on the back of Quirrell's head. He didn't know what he looked like in his own body.

"Anyway, I don't suppose they let him have visitors, so it's not like we can go there and ask him. Besides, that'd be pretty suspicious anyway."

"Maybe Dumbledore goes to visit and takes him flowers," Ted replied with a grin. He was having too much fun with this.

"Are you channeling Daphne?" At Ted's confusion, Harry shook his head. "Nevermind. I can't thank you enough for bringing me here. But I kind of just want to clear my head now." He checked his watch. "Shall we go for a walk in the moors?"

"Sure. My shoes actually have a comfort charm in them." Ted glanced at Harry's second hand, but no longer ill-fitting, trainers. "Are those comfortable?"

They walked and talked about everything except Harry's parents, Voldemort, and anything that Professor Bagshot had told them. It really was a very nice day, and Ted, having been raised on a similar West Country moorland landscape, knew how to get around and find the best paths through the heather, moving with the same silent elegance he had when sneaking around Hogwarts.

As the sun was beginning to descend, they came to a road. Ted looked around, making sure there were no passing cars or any other signs of muggles in the area.

"This looks like a good place to summon the Knight Bus," he said in reply to Harry's quizzical look. He stuck out his wand arm, and after a couple of seconds, a _triple_ decker bus popped into position in front of them, almost throwing them back. After another few seconds, the door opened, and a young man in a purple uniform leapt out of the bus.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard, just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this afternoon."

He looked at the two of them, and Harry spoke. "Uh, can you take me to Taunton, please?" he asked.

Ted gave his address and paid for the two of them, after declining any refreshments.

"Hold on tight, Harry," Ted said as they took a seat.

"Hey, are you 'Arry Potter?" Shunpike had come closer once the bus was away with a bang.

"Yes," he replied. "Don't shout it from the rooftops." He handed a couple of coins to Shunpike to underline that point.

Ted was definitely right about the Knight Bus being a bit of a lively way to travel. Ted seemed pretty used to it, so Harry wondered why he had felt so green back in the muggle bus to Godric's Hollow. The Knight Bus itself seemed to combine driving around like a normal bus, and popping in and out of places, like apparition. Harry thought it must use the same spells as Mr. Greengrass' pick-up. Fortunately, they were soon in Taunton, and Harry could exit the contraption before he felt too ill.

"See you on Friday," he told Ted, clapping his back as he left. "And thanks again. This is the best birthday present I've ever had," he whispered, giving his friend a look of gratitude as he stepped out of the Knight Bus, which popped out of existence as quickly as it arrived.

* * *

Harry had a lot to think about on his journey home. He had even more time than usual to think about it, as his train back from Taunton was delayed by about an hour due to signalling problems at Reading. So he only arrived back at Number Four Privet Drive late in the evening. He was wondering how the Dursleys were going to react to his arrival when he noticed an extra car in the driveway. Did they have company for the evening?

Harry hung back, wondering what to do, when his guess was confirmed. Vernon and Petunia came out with this couple Harry didn't know, and bade their goodbyes as they entered the unfamiliar car and drove off.

With the coast clear, Harry strode to the door, arriving just before Vernon was about to close it.

"Ah, boy, good thing you made yourself scarce today. Changed the Masons' dinner invitation to today when I knew you wouldn't be around to cause trouble. The last thing I wanted was to have you creeping around with them here. Just sealed a very important deal." Uncle Vernon was clearly very happy with himself. He was even almost civil to Harry as he let him inside.

"What'd you do? Meet one of those freak friends of yours?" Harry nodded as he went upstairs.

"Sure did Uncle Vernon. Spent all day doing freak things, like visiting my parents' grave. Congratulations on your deal." Harry was just tired now. He'd dozed off on the train when they'd been stopped, but was woken up by the guard's announcement when it started off again. He just wanted to have a shower and go to sleep. So when he entered his room, it took him a few seconds to notice the slovenly looking creature standing on his bed.

"What the hell?" he almost shouted, shock making him forget to keep his voice down. "Why is there a house elf in here?" His wand had shot to his hand. He had never seen a house elf before, as the ones at Hogwarts were very good at not being seen. But he knew Daphne's family had one, as did a few others, and he'd heard enough about the creatures to recognize one. He didn't think he'd ever like to own one, as he found the way they _needed_ to be owned and worked more than a little creepy.

"Harry Potter!" the creature squealed. "Such an honour for Dobby to meet you, sir!"

"Dobby," Harry began with a harsh voice, his wand still pointed at the grovelling creature. "Is that your name? Why are you in my room? Did someone send you here?"

"Send? Oh no, Dobby will have to punish himself later for even being here…"

Punish himself? He didn't know house elves had this much free agency, to do something they knew they'd have to punish themselves for later. Then again, even to Harry's lack of knowledge, this looked to be a particularly deranged example of his kind.

"No, Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter. To warn him, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later…" Shut his ears in the oven door? The more Harry heard about these creatures, the less he wanted anything to do with them. " _Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts…_ " the thing finished.

Harry rolled his eyes. Not go back to Hogwarts. Yeah, that was going to happen. Was this someone's idea of a practical joke?

"Why not?" Harry asked, hoping the thing would reveal who'd actually sent him here. If that was a he. Harry wasn't sure, and he certainly didn't want to find out for himself.

"Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger."

"So what else is new?" Harry asked. He'd certainly been in mortal danger last year. And while Voldemort was still out there… he would be in mortal danger, wherever he was. But he wasn't about to share this with a house elf. "What's the danger?" he asked instead.

"There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," the elf whispered, shaking and trembling like a nervous wreck. "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

"Terrible things? Worse than a teacher try to murder me? Because that's what happened last year, you know?" That was, after all, common knowledge back in school, at least. "Is it Voldemort?"

Dobby gagged at the mention of the name. "Don't say the name, Harry Potter, sir," he pleaded fearfully.

"Sure, whatever. The Dark Lord or whatever you prefer. Is it him?"

"No, not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Harry Potter, sir."

Was there someone else trying to kill him? Dobby looked to be struggling with himself. "Dobby cannot say," it finally whimpered. "But Harry Potter must promise! He must promise he will not be going back to Hogwarts!" The creature was sounding increasingly shrill, and if he didn't put a stop to this soon, Uncle Vernon or Petunia were bound to come knocking. He really wasn't in the mood for that.

So, he pretended to be thinking, struggling. "Alright, Dobby. I promise. I won't go back to Hogwarts. Thank you so much for the warning. I'd hate to think I could be going out there and someone would try to kill me."

"Oh, thank you, Harry Potter sir. It really is for the best," the creature squealed. Harry heard the noise of someone coming up the stairs.

"Yes, yes, now be quiet," he said nervously, glancing at the door. Nodding, Dobby disappeared with a pop, leaving behind an envelope.

"What the…" he mumbled. The noise having stopped, whoever was coming up the stairs didn't bother to check on him, so Harry just picked up the letter to find it had been sent by Morag. When he scanned it, he found its content to be similar to the one she had sent via Daphne and the muggle Post later. Had this thing been blocking his post?

"Son of a…" He muttered. If he'd ever had any inclination to follow through on his promise not to go back to Hogwarts, this would have quickly made him reverse his decision. Of course, it had all been a lie from the get go, as Harry had no more intentions of staying at the Dursleys than he did of trying to swim across the English Channel.

Harry showered, had some of the leftovers from the Durlseys' dinner, and then went to bed. He lay there in the dark, eyes open and face locked into a frown. What a strange day. He couldn't wait to discuss this house elf business with Ted and Daphne. It'd almost made him forget about the day's earlier events, even if now everything was coming back at once, overwhelming him with feelings he didn't know how to deal with.

One thing was for sure. He was going to find out who had sent this rotten creature his way, and make them regret it. Trying to keep him from going to Hogwarts… He fell asleep with that thought running through his mind, and had a night full of nightmares of being sent back to muggle secondary school wearing Dudley's hand-me-downs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading. Please, review, review, and review. I love every single review, as long as it's not "Stop writing, you bastard."


	20. Year 2 - Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My heartfelt thanks to KellhusTheKing for agreeing to be my beta. He's been very helpful. Any remaining errors are, of course, my own. Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed. Your reviews are really good at pushing me to write more.
> 
> As we will be meeting the rest of the Greengrass family in this chapter, it's as good a place as any to say that I will be working with a definition of canon that excludes Cursed Child, the constant stream of writer's diarrhoea coming out of Pottermore, as well as the rest of the franchised out bits. It's getting to the point where it's impossible to keep up with all this nonsense, and much like with the Star Wars Extended Universe, you can't have anyone fart without some nerd having a go at you. This means, inter alia, that poor Astoria is not suffering from a hereditary curse.

_The flower that smiles to-day  
_ _To-morrow dies;  
_ _All that we wish to stay  
_ _Tempts and then flies.  
_ _What is this world's delight?  
_ _Lightning that mocks the night,  
_ _Brief even as bright._

_Virtue, how frail it is!  
_ _Friendship how rare!  
_ _Love, how it sells poor bliss  
_ _For proud despair!  
_ _But we, though soon they fall,  
_ _Survive their joy, and all  
_ _Which ours we call._

_Whilst skies are blue and bright,  
_ _Whilst flowers are gay,  
_ _Whilst eyes that change ere night  
_ _Make glad the day;  
_ _Whilst yet the calm hours creep,  
_ _Dream thou—and from thy sleep  
_ _Then wake to weep._

Percy Bysshe Shelley

The Dursleys were in such a good mood that they didn't even annoy Harry about doing double the amount of chores the next day. Which was just as well, as Harry still had to pack his things for the trip to the Greengrasses. That's how he spent most of the day, which at least had the virtue of allowing him to put Dobby and his strange warnings, the lingering guilt over Quirrell, and the despondency left over from his visit to his parents' grave out of his mind.

When Wednesday came, he was ready, and spent most of the day in eager anticipation. The hours seemed to drag on endlessly. It didn't help that all his books were packed away, so he didn't even have anything to entertain himself with. Once his chores were done, he had to resort to pacing around the back garden (not the front, where the neighbours could see him, of course).

Just a few minutes after 5 pm, when Harry had been checking his watch every ten seconds or so, he finally heard a telltale pop, followed by the agricultural rattling of an ancient Ford diesel engine. He almost bolted back into the house, but unfortunately wasn't quick enough to get to the door before Aunt Petunia.

"Good afternoon. Mrs. Dursley, I presume?" That was Christian Greengrass, speaking in the same exaggerated Norfolk accent he'd heard him take with Uncle Vernon. "Pleasure to meet you," he took Petunia's hand before she even realized what was happening, giving it a quick shake.

"My name's Christian Greengrass, I'm sure Harry told you he was expecting us."

Harry had to laugh at the expression in Aunt Petunia's face. She seemed conflicted between her distaste for anything to do with the wizarding world, and the respectability that Mr. Greengrass exuded, his quality tweed outfit making him look like the epitome of a British country gentleman.

"Hello Mr. Greengrass," Harry said as he stepped beside his aunt, taking pity on her for a millisecond. He didn't have time to ask him about Daphne, because as soon as Harry came into view, she stepped out from behind her father and jumped onto Harry's arms, enveloping him in a tight hug. "Harry!"

Harry returned Daphne's hug, before she jumped off of him and stood in the threshold, giving him a grin. Harry glanced at Aunt Petunia, who nodded. "Just no funny business," she whispered, not daring to use the word freakishness in front of a fully trained wizard.

"Come in, please," Harry said as he took a step back. "Would you like a cup of tea?" He wasn't used to playing host, but had heard the Dursleys do it often enough. As both Mr. Greengrass and Daphne declined, Harry took a good look at his friend, who looked quite different from when he had last seen her.

The most noticeable change was that she'd cut her hair into a short, pixie cut. This made her look even more like her father, the hair's colour notwithstanding. She was also wearing muggle clothing, which he'd never seen her in before. She looked very striking in jeans, a dark grey t-shirt that was obviously a souvenir from her holiday to Canada, as it proudly boasted a bear, a moose, and an outline of some high mountains, and an unbuttoned flannel shirt which she wore as a jacket.

Meanwhile, Mr. Greengrass had been trying to make himself agreeable to Petunia.

" _Bootiful_ house you've got here, Mrs. Dursley. My daughter Daphne is very good friends with your nephew, as you can see."

Daphne grabbed some of Harry's baggage, turning to him. "Come on, let's get this stuff to the truck."

"Of course, we won't impose on you. We'll just move Harry's baggage and be on our way," Mr. Greengrass added. While Harry was sure that Mr Greengrass was tempted to just magic the whole lot onto the truck, he knew where he was and happily grabbed one end of Harry's large trunk.

"Give me a hand with this, Harry, will you?"

Harry grabbed the handle on the other end, and they began to carry it along. Through the magic of teamwork, they managed to move all his bagage in a matter of minutes.

"Good arm workout. Gonna need that if I make chaser this year, even if I'm still going for keeper first," Daphne said as they finished.

"Is that why you cut your hair?" Harry asked.

"Don't get me started on that, Harry," Mr. Greengrass cut in, giving Daphne an indulgent smile. "She'd been trying to cut her beautiful long hair for ages, but the Quidditch tryouts were just the perfect excuse. I know how badly she wants to get on the team…" He paused and looked at Harry for a moment. "Are you also going to be trying out, Harry?" he asked, with a spark of interest in his eyes.

"Uh, probably not, sir. I barely have enough time as it is, to do everything I want to do…"

"It's such a waste, dad. You should see him at the flying lessons. He flies circles around everyone, even on those crappy school brooms…."

Harry blushed at Daphne's praise. She'd tried every trick to get him to try out, but he was still ambivalent about the whole thing. For once, he was grateful that they were back in the house, as they knew not to mention anything about Quidditch (or anything else to do with magic) around aunt Petunia.

Dudley had joined Aunt Petunia now, probably attracted downstairs by the commotion. Harry saw his attention be drawn to Daphne as soon as she entered the room. Daphne noticed it too, and she gave Harry a wink before turning to his cousin.

"Hey, Sandwell right?" Harry thought he heard Mr. Greengrass suppressing a laugh, but his face was very correct when he looked at him, even if there was mirth in his eyes. Still, he turned to aunt Petunia and asked him about her garden, amazingly actually getting her to talk civilly to a wizard.

"Who are you?" Dudley finally asked Daphne. "My name's Dudley, not Sandwell…" He frowned, not getting the joke. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I'm Harry's friend from school. Daphne Greengrass…"

"You go to his school?" Dudley's eyes widened in fear. "That means you're… you're…"

"Yup, sure am. Don't tell me you were expecting warts and a big, hooked nose. Honestly, did you never see a picture of your aunt Lily? She was gorgeous…"

Harry felt himself blush at that, and he didn't know why. Still, that must have alerted Aunt Petunia's spidey senses, because she came bearing down on them very quickly, probably to try to get her Diddikyns away from being exposed to any freakishness.

"Alright, bye Walsall," Daphne waved, which had Harry biting his lip as he followed Daphne and Mr. Greengrass out of the house.

"Goodbye Aunt Petunia. See you next year," he said, as he strode forward with a spring in his step, happy to finally be leaving Privet Drive. "Bye Dudders."

Once they were all safely inside the pick-up and away from the muggles, Mr. Greengrass dropped the exaggerated accent, even if one could still detect hints of it if they were looking for them.

"Glad we got that out of the way," he said as he started the engine.

"Bloody hell, Harry, I'm surprised your cousin is able to go up and down the stairs. He's even fatter than your uncle," said Daphne as she stretched out on her seat.

Harry grinned. "Yeah, he's definitely Vernon's son," he replied, before changing the subject to more pleasant topics. "It's great to see you again. How was Canada?"

"Oh, it was amazing. Turns out there's more Quidditch action than I thought. Was stupid of me, really. They did win the world cup a couple of years ago."

"Final took five days, too," Mr. Greengrass added. "By the time it was finished there was almost no one left watching," he said with a laugh, as they drove onwards out of Surrey, the pick-up's progress being aided by popping in and out of existence at regular intervals, moving forward towards East Anglia.

"We did watch a Quodpot match. Really strange, but I can kinda see the appeal now that I've watched it. It's a lot more reliant on team skills than Quidditch…"

While Mr. Greengrass wasn't as outwardly enthusiastic as Daphne, Harry was quick to realize from his interspersed comments that he was a fairly big quidditch fan himself, and seemed happy for Daphne to pursue her ambitions. She had made it no secret that her dream was to play professionally, preferably for the Holyhead Harpies, an all-woman team she rabidly supported.

Harry finally managed to drag her away from the topic of quidditch and towards what else they did in Canada.

"The Wizarding Market in Vancouver was amazing. It's very well connected with China so you get all sorts of weird Oriental items that you'd never see here… And really wouldn't expect outside China or somewhere like that. I'll show you some stuff I got when we get home… And the magical creatures they have living on the mountains…"

Now that was a lot more interesting. Apparently Canada had its own magical school, deep in the woods of Northern Quebec, but a few wizards there went to school in the United States instead. He never thought of where wizards in other countries went to school.

"Are there any magical schools in Europe?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. Hogwarts is the only school in the British Isles, but there's more on the continent," Mr. Greengrass explained. "Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are the most famous, and the ones we tend to have more contact with, even if Durmstrang has a bit of a dubious reputation… It's the school Gellert Grindelwald went to, and they are known for encouraging students to practice the Dark Arts…"

Harry remembered Draco Malfoy talking about almost having gone to Durmstrang, now that he thought about it. He mentioned this to Mr. Greengrass, who snorted.

"I bet Narcissa Malfoy didn't love that idea. Sounds like the sort of thing Lucius would think up, the poncy git." Mr. Greengrass punctuated this with a gear shift, just as the truck popped out of the way of a much larger lorry.

Harry grinned at that. Daphne had obviously told her dad he was only just civil with Malfoy.

"Like father, like son, I see," said Harry, to a general laugh.

"You see Harry, working at the ministry I have to deal with all sorts of unpleasant people, while not letting on that I find them unpleasant. That's why so many people from Slytherin house do very well at these jobs. We get a lot more practice with that than the other houses," he said with a grin. Harry supposed this was how he handled the Dursleys so well.

"I have to admit I was very surprised by Daphne's letter, when she told us you'd been sorted into Slytherin with her. I suppose everyone expected you to follow your parents into Gryffindor. I've never known them, but my wife Ruth was at Hogwarts a couple of years below them."

Harry raised his eyebrow at that. He was definitely going to be asking Mrs. Greengrass about this now. "But these surprises happen. My own late father was in Ravenclaw, despite us Greengrasses traditionally going into Slytherin. He was a very scholarly man, as you can imagine. Anyway, I was even more interested when Daphne said you were becoming friends. I'm sure I don't need to tell you why. Many people had been waiting for your arrival at Hogwarts. No one really knew what had happened to you after you survived the killing curse, you see." Mr. Greengrass was frowning now. "Even now, I have not been able to find any documentation at the ministry about what happened. I find this very frustrating."

"Dad _has_ been trying," Daphne told Harry pointedly. She obviously didn't want Harry to think she'd been remiss in asking him. Harry waved his hand in dismissal, turning to face Mr. Greengrass.

"I really appreciate that, Mr. Greengrass. Don't worry if you can't find anything. You've tried."

Mr. Greengrass shook his head.

"I don't like it. You are a child of a magical family. There should have been an official record of what happened to you. I understand that there was a need at the time to keep it secret, what with many Death Eaters still at large, but surely there is no reason to maintain that so long afterwards… My job at the Ministry is head of the Legislation division of the Archives department. So while I am not directly involved with recordings of children's placements, I know a few people who are, quite well. I have to be careful not to seem overly interested in this, mind you, because it's officially none of my business. But when I explain that you're Daphne's friend, that does get me a little bit of leeway…" He paused to shift gears again, then gave Harry a slightly apologetic grin. "But excuse my drivel. I'm sure you'd much rather be thinking of your upcoming birthday."

"Well, it will definitely be nice to have a proper magical celebration. Thanks again for agreeing to have me over, Mr. Greengrass. And for picking me up. I'd really rather not have to go on the Knight Bus with all my baggage."

"Oh, goodness, no. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. It's bad enough when you don't have to worry about getting your stuff knocked around. If it wasn't for the baggage I'd just side-along apparate you, but it's really no trouble. Really, it's an honour to have such a distinguished guest stay with us."

"Don't give him a big head, dad," Daphne interjected with a laugh.

They were in Norfolk now. Driving through the flat, fertile fens, Harry could see the buzz of agricultural activity all around them. Tractors and other kinds of farm equipment moved noisily through the fields, doing things which Harry didn't really understand, having been raised in the suburbs.

"We're almost home," Daphne told him. "Totally different from around Hogwarts, right? Makes it a pain in the arse to get on a broomstick without the muggles noticing, but at the same time it's nice to be able to see miles around."

"We have a sheltered area with trees where you can fly, though," Mr. Greengrass added.

"Has your family lived here for a long time?" Harry asked.

"The Greengrasses have always lived in Norfolk, but our current house was built when the Fens were drained in the eighteenth century," Mr. Greengrass replied. "It was just after the Statute of Secrecy had been passed, and wizards and muggles had not separated as far as we are now. So we ended up owning a fair bit of land here. It's all rented out to muggles now, except for just around our house, of course."

That certainly explained why Mr. Greengrass was able to blend in with muggles pretty well. They were now driving along a narrow country lane, towards a large L-shaped house which Harry guessed was the Greengrasses' home. They had blinked past a closed gate and were now getting closer and closer, until the pickup finally came to a stop outside a large front door.

"Don't worry about the baggage, Harry," Mr. Greengrass told him. "Ziggy, our house elf will take care of everything. Welcome to our home," he said formally as he opened the front door, letting Harry and Daphne through the threshold ahead of him.

Harry looked around the lobby, which was tastefully decorated with old and sturdy looking furniture. A painting of a Greengrass gone by was watching them from one of the walls. He heard footsteps from one of the open doors, before a clear, penetrating woman's voice was heard.

"Christian, is that you?" Mrs. Greengrass followed her voice into the room, greeting her husband with a kiss before turning to Harry and Daphne. She looked a good bit younger than Mr. Greengrass, and had Daphne's black hair, even though they didn't look much alike otherwise. She was pale and wearing well cut, lightweight pink robes, and even though he didn't often notice these things, Harry thought she was a very beautiful woman.

"Hello Harry. Welcome, I'm so glad you could come and visit us. Daphne talks a lot about you," she said, greeting him with a hug, which left Harry slightly dazed, before giving Daphne a kiss on the cheek.

"You should go show Harry his room, dear," she told her daughter. "And don't forget to introduce him to Astoria. I'm sure she'd be very cross if she didn't get to meet Harry as soon as possible," she added with a smile. Harry blushed at this, remembering Daphne's letters, but as promised, he was going to be nice to Daphne's sister. Daphne, who was giggling at this too, bid him to follow her up the stairs.

"Come on, let's go meet Astoria first. Mum's right, she's been talking about this for weeks."

Harry followed Daphne up the stairs and down a long corridor to a closed door, from where a pink sign with the name 'Astoria' written in bright green writing was hung. Daphne knocked, before adding.

"Someone is here to see you, Princess," she called with just a hint of mirth in her voice.

Harry heard the noise of something falling to the floor inside the room, before he heard the words "One second."

They waited a fair bit more than that, but eventually the door opened a crack. Harry saw a blue eye peak through the opening, before it widened and the door finally opened. Astoria had long blonde hair, the same colour as her father, and was wearing a light purple robe, almost like she'd dressed up for the occasion. She was blushing, but powered through any embarrassment with valour, her determined chin stuck out in what was obviously a family trait, evident even in someone who otherwise took more after her mother.

Astoria solemnly extended her hand, and despite growing even redder, held Harry's gaze.

"Harry, this is my little sister Astoria," Daphne introduced. "This is Harry Potter, Princess," she repeated the nickname with a grin, as Harry, silently amused by the girl's serious demeanour, took her hand and shook it firmly.

"It's very nice to meet you, Astoria. Daphne's told me a lot about you."

"Daphne! What have you been telling him?!" she stage whispered to her sister, before remembering that Harry was still there and she hadn't said anything to him yet.

"Erm, sorry, Harry. It's really nice to meet you. I was so happy when Daphne said you were friends," she began, before blushing even harder, probably realising that she'd just admitted to being a fangirl.

True to his promise, Harry tried to smooth things over. It _was_ kind of cute how much she was trying to act normal and collected. "Well, I hope you're not disappointed now that you've met me for real. People usually think I'd be taller," he added with a grin.

Astoria giggled at his joke, biting her lip. "No, no, you're just great! I mean, uh, just like she wrote," she continued.

"How old are you?" Harry asked, trying his best to put her at ease.

"I'm ten and a half," she replied. "I won't get to go to Hogwarts for another year," she replied, almost pouting. "I wish I could be starting this year."

"We have to do a lot of work, Princess," Daphne replied. "It's not all fun and games…"

"But it _is_ a lot of fun," Harry added. "It'll be worth the wait, I promise."

"I'm going to go show Harry his room," Daphne interjected. "We'll catch up later, Princess, alright."

Astoria looked torn between relief that she didn't have to try to carry on the conversation any longer, and disappointment that Harry was going away.

"I promise we'll get to know each other properly once I settle in," Harry told her with a smile, sensing this. "I'll be here for a month, after all."

"Oh, of course. See you later Harry," she replied, relief now becoming evident, even if she tried to retreat back to her room with dignity rather than look like she was running away.

Once the door closed, Daphne chuckled. "Isn't she cute. Thanks for not breaking her heart, Harry."

Harry blushed himself at this, not used to being the object of this kind of attention. They walked back up the corridor, and Daphne let him to her room first, past a door proclaiming in sharp, dark green writing that this was _'Daphne's Room - DO NOT ENTER Without Permission._ '

Harry laughed at the warning, wishing he could have had something like that in his room back at the Dursleys.

Harry had never been in a girl's bedroom before, but he was fairly certain Daphne's wasn't very typical. The walls were covered in Holyhead Harpies paraphernalia, including a variety of magical posters, depicting many Quidditch plays. The ability to depict movement made them much more interesting than the muggle football posters Dudley had, as one could see the different plays taking place. Many of the posters featured a tough looking woman wearing the Captain's badge, and wielding a beater's club.

"Who's that?" Harry asked, noting her ubiquitous presence.

"Who's that? That's only Gwenog Jones. She is… amazing!" Daphne clearly wasn't immune to Fangirl's Disease either, because she spent quite a bit of time rhapsodizing about her hero's prowess.

Harry was only half listening as he took stock of his friend's room, noting the desk piled up with parchments suggesting she had been active in completing her homework after all, to the few non-Quidditch related items, among which posters for a band called the Weird Sisters were fairly prominent. Harry had occasionally heard mentions of them at school before, but had actually never realized they were a band until seeing Daphne's poster, where they were wielding their musical instruments.

His distraction was probably a bit too evident, because Daphne had stopped talking and was following his gaze. "More interested in the Weird Sisters than hearing me obsess about quidditch?" She asked with a laugh.

"Uh, well, I didn't even realize they were a band," Harry admitted.

Daphne sighed at that. "I keep forgetting how much you're still missing. We'll have to continue your education." She grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the corridor. "I still need to show you your room."

As Daphne had mentioned in her letter, he'd been allocated a room next to hers. His baggage had already been transferred to the room, which surprised him until he remembered Mr. Greengrass' words about their house elf. The room was bigger than Dudley's second room had been, to say nothing of his cupboard. Thinking about house elves brought Dobby's visit to Harry's mind.

"This looks great, Daphne. Thanks again," he took a seat on his bed before broaching the topic. "The strangest thing happened to me a couple of days ago."

"Oh?" Daphne asked. She sat perpendicular to Harry on the bed, and looked at him inquiringly. She cast a privacy spell, adding. "Probably best if we don't lock the door, but don't need to worry about being overheard at least. I know you like your secrets."

Harry blushed. Until Daphne mentioned it, he hadn't really processed the fact that he was sitting very close to a girl in… if not strictly _his_ bedroom, at least the bedroom he was currently occupying. He wasn't sure whether to scoot away from her, but Daphne's laughter diffused his tension.

"Oh my God Harry, you are so adorable when you get all flustered like that. Don't worry, I'm not worried about your intentions on my virtue." Her impish grin was enough to get him to relax almost instantly.

"Sorry," he admitted, chuckling. He bit his lip and leant back against the wall, before telling Daphne the story of Dobby's visit. She listened to him attentively, asking a question or two, until he finished his tale.

"That's really strange behaviour from a house elf," she said when Harry was finished. "Normally they wouldn't think of doing anything like that against their owners' wishes, even if they hadn't actually been told not to do it… But I suppose if an elf really held a grudge against their owners it might do that…" She thought for another couple of seconds before calling out "Ziggy!"

This was immediately followed by a pop, and a house elf appearing before them. "Miss Daphne called?" The creature asked. While this one looked a bit more stable than Dobby had, Harry could still not shake a slight discomfort in the presence of these creatures. At least Ziggy was better groomed. Presently, he turned his wide-eyed attention on Harry. "Mr. Harry Potter, sir. Ziggy is honoured to serve Mr. Harry Potter."

Harry never knew what to reply to things like this even when coming from other humans, much less from house elves. Fortunately, Daphne took the reins of the situation, which he supposed was fitting, since her family owned the creature after all.

"Ziggy, do you know a house elf named Dobby?" Daphne asked, quick and to the point as usual. The elf thought for a second, before shaking his head.

"Ziggy does not know any Dobby, Miss. Does Miss Daphne want Ziggy to find out?"

Daphne looked at Harry, and he shrugged. "Don't go out of your way, but if you get the chance to ask, please do so," Harry said. How would he even get the chance? Did house elves get together in their time off, if they even had time off…

Daphne underwrote Harry's instructions. "Yes, Ziggy, do that. And remember Harry is a guest with us, so do what he tells you to."

"Of course, miss Daphne. Mr. Harry Potter, sir," the creature turned to Harry before disappearing with a pop.

Harry shuddered.

"Don't think I'm going to be calling him if I can help it. These creatures give me the creeps," he admitted. Daphne regarded him curiously, but indulged him, shrugging and returned to the issue of Dobby's visit.

"Still can't believe the cheek of that house elf, intercepting your post. I didn't even know that was possible… Do you think there really is a plan to make anything happen at Hogwarts?" she asked.

"Wouldn't surprise me judging from last year. Still, it's supposedly not Voldemort, so whatever it is, I'm sure Dumbledore can handle it…"

Daphne shuddered at the name. "Stop that," he told her, more harshly than he intended. "I'm the one he's after. If I can say it, you can too."

"I'm still processing the fact that he's still alive…" Daphne whispered. "I haven't talked about it with anyone. Just like you asked me to. But it's scary. It really is." Daphne looked deflated, her usual energy ebbing away, before she closed her eyes for a second, like she was trying to focus all her determination.

"I know what you're thinking. I'm not going anywhere. I'm your friend. But, I'm scared. I'm not a Gryffindor." She opened her eyes and looked at Harry.

"Neither am I. I understand. I was scared too. When I faced him. I still am. I guess I can't understand what it's like when you've grown up thinking this was all in the past. But I'm here for you." He smiled, and Daphne nodded, squeezing his hand before regaining a bit of her usual vitality. At that moment, the sound of a gong rang throughout the house.

"Ah, that'll be dinner," she said, jumping out of bed and cancelling the privacy charm. "Come on, you'll change your tune on house elves once you've tried Ziggy's cooking," she added, dragging him out of his room and down the stairs.

This was the kind of occasion where Harry would be locked in the cupboard under the stairs back at the Dursleys, or in the loft for good measure. As a result, he had zero experience of dinner parties. Still, he muddled through as best as he could. The Greengrasses seemed willing to overlook any minor failings in his manners, and helped draw him out by asking questions about his exploits at Hogwarts which they surely already knew about from Daphne. Even Astoria joined in, a lot more composed now that she had got used to being under the same roof as the Boy-Who-Lived.

Once dinner was over, Mr. Greengrass asked Harry and Daphne to join him in his study, a room whose walls couldn't be seen for all the bookcases covering them from floor to ceiling. Harry took his seat beside Daphne by a coffee table, while Mr. Greengrass sat by the big mahogany desk which dominated the room.

Harry was very conscious that he still did not know all the intricacies of what was expected behaviour among old wizarding families. For a second he entertained with horror the idea that they still practiced arranged marriages, and Mr. Greengrass was about to offer him Daphne or Astoria as a future wife. He didn't know which one would be more awkward. Then he realized he was being ridiculous, and that he'd never heard anyone mention arranged marriages-he was just drawing silly parallels with things he'd learned poorly in muggle history.

While he was thinking about this, Mr. Greengrass had poured himself a glass of firewhisky, and had got him and Daphne something called butterbeer.

"Have you ever had one of these, Harry?" he asked. When Harry shook his head, he went on. "This one only contains a very small amount of alcohol, but they can definitely range a fair bit higher. I'm sure you'll find all about that soon enough, especially when they start letting you out to Hogsmeade next year."

Harry took a sip, and found he quite enjoyed it. It was a lot better than that nasty goblin cider stuff he'd tried at the house cup victory party. Not that he was about to mention that.

"It's great, thank you, sir!" he exclaimed, before taking another sip. Mr. Greengrass went on.

"Anyway, I didn't ask you here to talk about drinks," he said, taking a sip of his own firewhisky. "Ahh, that's the stuff," he murmured. "Anyway, I'm very happy for you to host your birthday party here in a couple of days. I can certainly understand why you wouldn't want to host it at your relatives' house. And it's a pleasure having you over for the whole month. You really do deserve to see more of our world than just what you get at Hogwarts. It's completely unconscionable that you were kept completely in the dark about your background for so long."

Harry got the sense that Mr. Greengrass was building up to something. He was soon proven right.

"I'm going to be hosting a couple of get togethers while you're here. Just a few friends and acquaintances, colleagues from the Ministry. Some of them will be bringing their children over. I hope you'll do me the honour of attending. We won't keep you kids long past dinner, especially since their children would want to mingle with you too. It'll do you good to meet other people outside your year and house, anyway."

Harry nodded. Indeed, Mr. Greengrass wasn't as crass as to explicitly describe the quid-pro-quo, but it was there, exactly as Daphne and Ted had warned him. Well, while it was slightly awkward, it certainly seemed like a worthy tradeoff. After all, it'd only be a couple of awkward evenings in exchange for a whole month away from the Dursleys. Truth be told, he'd do a lot more than what he was being asked in exchange for that.

"Oh, that's not a problem, Mr. Greengrass. It's my pleasure. You've opened your home to me, after all, and I'm really grateful for that." Harry thought that expressed it nicely, and was relieved to see that Mr. Greengrass looked pleased. He took another sip of his firewhisky before changing the subject.

"Did you find the records I obtained for you about that Gaunt family useful? I hope you don't mind satisfying my curiosity as to why you wanted them."

Ah, yes. Harry had had a month to finish up a cover story for this request.

"Well, I had been researching my family history. I didn't know anything about them, you see. So when I finally started learning about them, I just wanted to know more. I learned that my family were descended from this famous family called the Peverells. Once I started learning more about them…" he explained, keeping it as close to the truth as he could, without divulging any details about things like the Resurrection Stone and his ability to speak to snakes.

"You found out that the Gaunts also claimed descent from them." Mr. Greengrass's eyes lit up with recognition. "That's very good detective work. I suspect your friend Nott might have lent you some help there." They all knew he was alluding to _The Pureblood Directory_.

Harry demurred. "I had to piece things together from a lot of sources. I suspect, as one of the Sacred Twenty Eight yourself, you'll know all these things, but I had to find them all out for myself." He shrugged. "At any rate it was a false lead, as it turned out to be a different Peverell that they were related to." He hoped that would put it to rest.

Mr. Greengrass looked impressed now. "You'll find that pretty much every one of those families is related to all the others. At least the ones who are left. There's a fair bit less than Twenty Eight now." He paused and downed the rest of his firewhisky. "But it's a noble endeavour on your part. I can certainly understand your curiosity now. It's perhaps for the best that that was a false lead, anyway. As you found out, that wasn't a family one would particularly want to be associated with."

Harry wasn't sure that Mr. Greengrass fully bought his story, but if he hadn't, he wasn't pressing the issue. After a few more pleasantries, him and Daphne were let go. It was still light outside, it being the peak of the Summer, so Daphne gave him a quick tour of the grounds before they went back inside and took care of some pending homework, trying to get it out of the way before Harry's birthday. The next day was spent in more or less the same way, Harry feeling a rising sense of anticipation for his first ever birthday party-at least that he could remember. He assumed his parents had had a party for his first birthday.

On the morning of his birthday, he was woken by a party horn.

"Happy birthday, sleepyhead." Daphne greeted him, standing at the threshold of his bedroom with her wand out; presumably it had been used to make that sound, as no actual horn was in sight. Harry quickly put his classes on and grinned sheepishly.

"Thanks," he said, slowly climbing out of bed.

"I'm saving your present for when the others get here, but I've been planning that for a while," she added with a grin. "Just knock on my door when you're ready."

While Daphne's present would wait, as she would actually be at the party, Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass had something for Harry at breakfast.

"We thought you really should get something done about those glasses, dear," Mrs. Greengrass began. "They look terribly out of fashion, and you probably should get your vision tested at some point. I would guess you've never been to a magical optician, have you, Harry?"

Harry shook his head sheepishly. Were his glasses really that bad? Mrs. Greengrass went on.

"So, Christian and I got you a voucher for an examination and a new pair of glasses." She held out to Harry a rolled and sealed parchment. "We'd've preferred to have them ready now, but it's not the kind of thing you can shop for someone in their absence."

"Owlsworth and Mole are an establishment in Diagon Alley. You can go there when you go to buy your school things, but we wanted to give you the gift today," Mr. Greengrass took over the explanation. "You'll be able to specify any number of charms you might want on your glasses, like being waterproof and only removable by you."

Harry had never thought of any of those possibilities. This was another one of those little things he'd missed out on from being raised by muggles. He suddenly felt very grateful to the Greengrasses.

"Thank you very much," he said, grasping the parchment tightly. "I'm really looking forward to getting them."

Waiting behind Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass was a slightly flustered, but determined looking Astoria. "I've got you something too, Harry," she told him, bringing forward a small wrapped box she'd been keeping behind her back. "I don't get a lot of pocket money yet, but I ordered it myself."

Harry took the box from her with care. Astoria had got progressively less starstruck after they had eaten a few meals together and she realized the Boy-Who-Lived was human after all. Harry wasn't sure whether that had made her crush worse or better, but she was clearly making an effort to talk with him without being his friend's annoying little sister. That was kind of impressive in a way. Harry was fairly confident she'd get sorted into Slytherin and have all the other first years eating off the palm of her hand.

Harry unwrapped the box very seriously, to find inside a little silver pin in the form of a snake, curled into an S-shape. "It's a Slytherin house pin," she explained. "It's charmed so it just stays on without tearing your clothes," she added, demonstrating how to activate it. Harry smiled.

"It's beautiful, Astoria, thank you," he told her, carefully following her instructions to pin it in place. "I'm going to wear it all day!" He said, giving her a smile that made her blush again. Still, she held her composure admirably.

"I'm glad you like it, Harry," she replied, seriously. Daphne gave her a grin.

"You didn't tell me you had this planned, Princess," she said. "Now I look like a weirdo for making him wait until later."

Harry was about to protest before Daphne's grin made it clear that she didn't really mean anything by it. Soon, it was mid-afternoon, time for the rest of his friends to start arriving for his party. Harry was feeling surprisingly nervous considering he was the birthday boy. He still felt very awkward when people made a fuss about him, even if in this case it was completely normal and expected. Back at the Dursleys, attention had never been good.

At first, Harry didn't understand why Daphne took him to the living room and began fiddling with the fireplace.

"Are we lighting a fire? It's the middle of the Summer?"

Daphne looked slightly confused before realization dawned on her.

"Oh, I suppose you'd never seen Floo travel before." She grabbed a bowl from the mantlepiece and showed him. It was full of a powder which looked like normal soot. "This is Floo powder. You can use it to travel between fireplaces that are connected to the Floo network. You can also use it to just talk to people. It's a bit disconcerting when you try it for the first time, but it's very handy if you can't apparate."

"Is it better than the Knight Bus?" Harry asked with a grin.

"Oh, you've done that? It's different, but neither is particularly pleasant, to be honest…" she trailed as the sound of a bell sounded through the house.

"Guess not everyone's Flooing in," she exclaimed, turning on her heels to go open the door. Harry followed her and arrived at the threshold just in time to see the Knight Bus disappear behind a frazzled looking Theodore Nott, wearing slightly faded, but good quality robes and carrying a wrapped package.

"Happy birthday, Harry," he said as Daphne stepped aside to let him in. "Hi Daphne. You cut your hair!"

"I'm going to be hearing that a lot today, aren't I?" she asked as she closed the door again. Before Harry could say anything or open the present, a rushing noise came from the fireplace, followed by the thud of someone landing. They turned to the living room to find Morag MacDougal stumbling out of the fireplace, holding a small gift.

"Can never land properly," she said as she found her footing. "Happy birthday, Harry! Thank you so much for inviting me." She then turned to Daphne and Ted. "I don't think we ever properly met, but I'm Morag MacDougal. Of course we're in some classes together, but…"

"I'm Daphne Greegrass. Welcome," she looked speculatively at Morag and Harry, before the latter introduced Ted. Tracey soon arrived via Floo as well, while Blaise actually side along apparated with his mum, who turned out to be on friendly terms with Mrs. Greengrass.

Blaise's mother was a very beautiful woman-but in a different way from Mrs. Greengrass. Harry couldn't put his finger on where exactly the difference lay, though, other than perhaps Mrs. Zabini being more vibrant and energetic.

"Hello, Harry, happy birthday," Blaise said as he stepped into the room.

"We know you kids want to be alone, don't worry. Ruth and I will just be having afternoon tea," Mrs. Zabini said, mostly to Blaise, but including everyone else in the group.

They all nodded until all parental figures were safely out of sight. "All right, Harry. Time to open your presents, then we'll go outside." Daphne said, as Harry turned to the pile of wrapped packages waiting for him.

"Is this everyone? Am I the only one who's not in Slytherin?" asked Morag. Harry was vaguely worried that this would make her uncomfortable, but she seemed to be taking it pretty well. Harry supposed that exposure to him had lessened any prejudice she might feel towards his house.

"An Eagle among the Snakes. Sounds dramatic, doesn't it?" Blaise drawled, grinning at Morag. Reassured that she wasn't going to feel unwelcome, Harry picked a present at random and pulled at the wrapping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pickup Mr. Greengrass is driving is supposed to have been one of the Ministry cars seen in PoA for the first time.
> 
> Sandwell and Walsall are two metropolitan boroughs in the West Midlands, located near Dudley and in the case of the former, sharing a railway station with it (Sandwell and Dudley).
> 
> Bootiful is a catchphrase associated with the late frozen turkey magnate Bernard Mathews, who was from Norfolk and spoke in a very broad local accent.
> 
> The Fens were a wetland area in the County of Norfolk. Attempts to drain it went back at least to the 17th century, but due to local resistance and the Civil War, it was only in the 18th century that this was accomplished.


	21. Year 2 - Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my amazing beta KellhusTheKing, for all the help with this chapter. Any remaining errors are, of course, my own. Also thanks to everyone who left a review. It really means a lot to me.
> 
> If you don't like what happens in the first half of this chapter, I strongly encourage you to read to the end, and read my end chapter author's note as well. I hope that might persuade you to continue reading.
> 
> WyldeHeart: I'm glad you enjoy that. Some people think it takes away from the magic, but I like to sprinkle that stuff throughout.
> 
> stormguy03: I really appreciate the offer, but I do have a beta now! Thank you very much, though.

" _As if a phantom caress'd me,  
_ _I thought I was not alone walking here by the shore;  
_ _But the one I thought was with me as now I walk by the shore,  
_ _the one I loved that caress'd me,  
_ _As I lean and look through the glimmering light, that one has  
_ _utterly disappear'd,  
_ _And those appear that are hateful to me and mock me."_

Walt Whitman

Harry could see from the shape that three of his gifts were books, so he decided to start with the ones that were not. He picked up Blaise's first, which turned out to be a small, round mirror. Blaise was grinning at him as he urged Harry to try it. When Harry did, he was startled to hear his reflection talk back to him.

"Goodness, do something with that hair, will you? You look like you saw a ghost." They all burst out laughing, and Harry reflexively patted his hair, before remembering there was no point.

"They're charmed to give you advice," Blaise explained. "They can be a bit cheeky, but they give good advice… Although maybe your hair _is_ a lost cause." He added with a laugh.

Grinning, Harry took up one of the books, which turned out to be from Tracey. After tearing through the wrapping paper, he found it to be an illustrated tome titled _Transfiguration Disasters_.

"You probably helped prevent me getting into some of these by tutoring me," Tracey said, as Harry opened it at a random page to find a gruesome picture of a man who'd been transfigured into a cockroach, albeit of human size. The transfiguration had not been complete, though, and his internal organs, which had retained their human configuration, had pooled at the bottom of the cockroach's exoskeleton and begun to leak out.

"Right, that's going to give me nightmares for weeks," Blaise exclaimed as he looked away. Whenever Harry could remember his dreams, they were usually nightmares, so at least this'd give them some variety.

"I'll save this for bedtime reading," Harry said, putting on a brave face and grinning at Tracey, who bit her lip awkwardly, though she seemed pleased.

The next book was from Ted. "I've already given you my main present, but I didn't want to show up empty handed," he said. "I just bought this yesterday." It was a book chronicling the history of Grindelwald's rise and fall, which of course was very relevant after their strange meeting with Bathilda Bagshot. He still needed to tell Daphne about that.

The final book was Daphne's gift. It was titled _Duelling for Dummies_ , and from a quick overview of the contents gave a basic, but thorough overview of spells useful in competitive duelling, as well as a number of more general discussions. It seemed very useful, and Harry couldn't wait to begin to read it and practice the spells contained therein. Due to Quirrell's subpar teaching, he had already got into the habit of practicing Defence in an unused classroom with Ted and Daphne, even if occasionally their practice veered into less defence oriented spells, mostly courtesy of Ted. Still, Daphne had clearly picked up on his enthusiasm for the matter.

"This is great, Daphne, thanks!" he told her, before putting down her book and picking up the final gift, which very much did not look like a book. It was from Morag, and it turned out to be a little silver locket with space for two photographs.. Or so it looked.

"You can actually place up to ten pictures on each side," she explained. "They're charmed to switch them over. I have one with pictures of my parents," she explained, lowering her voice, and Harry nodded slowly. Morag was also an orphan, so it made sense that she'd think of something like this.

"Thank you. I know exactly what to put in there," he said, remembering the album of pictures Hagrid had given him.

Once all the gifts had been opened, they took advantage of the warm weather to have a picnic, featuring a birthday cake. It was only the second birthday cake he ever remembered being given, and while Hagrid's offering had meant a lot to him, its culinary quality had been memorable for all the wrong reasons. This one, on the other hand, was amazing, with chocolate and sponge layers and covered in delicious frosting. Harry reluctantly had to agree that the house elf's cooking and baking skills were great, even if that ultimately didn't change his opinion on ever wanting to own one.

They ate in the shade of a copse of trees which protected the Greengrasses' house from view. Only the faintest breeze blew in from the sea, providing just enough refreshment so that the heat was not oppressive. Faint noises of agricultural activity could be heard in the distance, but for the most part only their conversation disturbed the quiet of the surrounding countryside.

Daphne, Blaise, and Morag had got into a lively discussion about Quidditch and their respective teams' chances in the upcoming season. Morag supported a Scottish team called Pride of Portree, while Blaise favoured the Appleby Arrows. The only thing they seemed agreed on was mocking a team called the Chudley Cannons, the whipping boy of the league by the sound of it. Ted and Tracey were sitting a bit closer to Harry, and the latter had been telling him about her Summer.

"I've just gone to stay with dad, but I was with my mum the past few weeks." Tracey's wizard father and muggle mother had a very turbulent, on-again, off-again relationship. Fortunately none of the issues had anything to do with magic, and Tracey had grown up with it so took it all in stride. "We went down to Spain for our holiday. Travelling by muggle means, of course."

"That'll have been an aeroplane, not a bus, Ted," Harry said with a grin, remembering his friend's first experience with muggle transport. Tracey nodded. "They're not as fast as a portkey, obviously," she explained. "But they don't leave you nearly as frazzled when you arrive."

"Portkey? Just how many ways of getting about do wizards have?" Harry frowned, annoyed at another gap in his knowledge. Tracey and Ted explained the concept.

"So why bother apparating when you can just create one of those?" Harry asked.

"They're very strictly regulated. You need ministry permission to make one, and that's quite expensive, so you only mostly have them for international travel," Ted replied.

"Hmmm," Harry murmured noncommittally. It sounded like the ministry was just restricting them to make money. Still, he supposed there might be some reason he didn't know about, so he kept quiet while he listened to Tracey's account of her beach holiday.

"You do look very tanned, you must have spent a lot of time sunbathing," Harry said, making Tracey blush and thank him. For some reason, he had a vision of Tracey wearing a bikini and sunbathing on the beach that he found quite hard to shake. He looked away awkwardly and his eyes met Morag's, who seemed to be having quite a good time.

"So how're you coping with being surrounded by snakes, Morag?" he asked as he got up to stretch his legs. Even though the sun was still far from completing its course in the sky, it was getting on towards tea time and the breeze was getting colder.

"Ravenclaws are always the ones who give us less crap, anyway," Blaise replied. "Besides, that accent is enough to melt the heart of even the darkest wizard," he added, to Morag's blush, even if she looked quite pleased. Harry smiled. Even at his young age Blaise fancied himself a budding Casanova. Considering his mother had buried six husbands, he had the heritage to back it up. He was definitely very handsome.

"Don't mind Blaise, he's like that with everyone," Daphne said with a grin. "Well, not with me, because I don't have any time for his sweet talking."

"Oh, I don't mind at all," she said, giving Blaise a very bright smile. Tracey shivered as she huddled closer to Daphne and Harry.

"It's getting a bit cold, isn't it?" They were all wearing very light robes as had fitted the temperature earlier in the day.

Daphne grinned at this. "Come on, then, guys. Hope no one's expecting you home early," she said as she jumped to her feet and motioned them to follow her back to the house.

"Oh I doubt anyone would notice if I didn't go home," Ted told Harry in a whisper. Harry's face fell briefly as he was reminded of his friend's family situation, but Ted shook his head. "Not that I'm in any hurry. This is great," he said, louder now so that Daphne could hear.

"You ain't seen nothing yet," she replied, just as they were arriving at the house. She led them away from the main door to a side entrance to what might, at some point, have been a stable for horses, but was definitely only being used for storage currently.

Or rather, was _mostly_ used for storage, because now it was set up to host the remainder of the party. A large, round table stood in the centre, covered in food and drink. There were a few games piled on the side, some of which Harry recognized from seeing people play in the common room, like gobstones and exploding snap.

"Daphne, you didn't have to," Harry said, blushing at the unexpected, extra gift.

"Don't be silly. If I'm going to throw you a party it's gonna be a good one," she exclaimed, rushing towards the table and lifting up a glass. "Bottomless butterbeer," she proclaimed, to what almost amounted to a cheer from the group. "To Harry," she said, her drink still held high, putting her arm on his shoulder after handing him his own glass. "The surprise Slytherin. Our house just wouldn't be the same without you. And you're the best mate a girl could want."

They toasted, and Harry was happy for being able to hide his face with his glass, for he really was embarrassed by all the attention, even if he genuinely appreciated it. He just didn't know how to react. Fortunately no one really expected him to do much more than take it. It was _his_ birthday, after all.

They sat down to eat and drink. Harry suspected this butterbeer was a bit stronger than the one Mr. Greengrass had offered him, even if not anywhere near the goblin cider he'd had. In any case, Harry decided he would rather remain blissfully ignorant, and just enjoyed the conversation and the food.

Once the meal was over, the food was gone by magic-house elf magic, Harry suspected, but Daphne was not about to let the party end there. She rose and began to fiddle with a device that looked like a muggle grammophone, but Harry suspected was enchanted in some manner. Soon it began to play music, which seemed to be recognized by his friends, even if Harry himself had never heard it.

"The Weird Sisters," Daphne explained, recalling Harry's curiosity about their posters in her bedroom. The music wasn't loud enough to drown out conversation. It just provided a pleasant background to their hang out. By mutual agreement, they decided to play exploding snap, and soon the room was filled with a cacophony of talking, laughter, and the occasional explosion. Harry had himself played the game a few times in the common room, even if he wasn't usually inclined to levity. Still, it was his birthday party, so he could afford to loosen up for a bit.

Even Ted was quite entertained and not at all his usual sombre self, even when he had the cards explode right on his face. He guessed being away from home was like a weight off his friend's shoulders. The bottomless butterbeer probably didn't hurt, either. Harry was certainly feeling more than a little dizzy now. Not that it was unpleasant. On the contrary, he was feeling pretty happy. He knew he had things to worry about, but they all seemed quite remote, and the present was very much enjoyable. He did stumble off his seat as he tried to rise, to the mirth of all those present. Laughing himself, he decided to catch a bit of fresh air, trying to clear his mind.

It was just past twilight, and the cool night air did work to make his head feel less fuzzy. He took a couple of deep breaths and was about to turn back when he saw Tracey had just joined him. Her cheeks were bright and she gave him a cheery smile. Harry wondered why he never noticed her smile was so nice before.

"Hi Harry. Needed some fresh air too?" she asked. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, just felt a bit dizzy. You had the same?"

Tracey nodded. "Yeah, I just wasn't prepared for bottomless butterbeer," she giggled, steadying herself by leaning against the wall. Harry thought it'd be a nice idea to sit down, and before he knew it his wand was in his hand and he was casting a cleaning charm at the ground. Amazingly, despite his head not feeling completely clear yet, he managed to cast it flawlessly at the first try.

Tracey gave him a wide grin. "You're so nice, Harry," she said as they sat down together.

Harry had tried to give her a bit of space, but she held onto his arm and pulled him closer. Harry suddenly became very aware of her presence next to him, and found it very hard to form any coherent thoughts. Still, with a monumental effort, he powered through the fuzziness to break the silence.

"So I never asked how you did in Transfiguration," he began, remembering her gift and the reason for it. "No disasters during the exam, I hope."

She gave him a bright smile in return. She really was being much less shy than usual. Then again, he was a lot more relaxed than usual too. "I had an E," she replied. "I was so happy. I could never have done it without you." She bit her lip, quickly deliberating, before asking. "Do you think we can keep studying together this year? I'd really love that," she got out, before looking away from him, her cheeks bright red.

"Of course. I really enjoyed tutoring you. I think it helped me learn things a lot better anyway. You really have to understand something before you can explain it to somebody else…"

Tracey gave him a grateful look, and Harry felt a shiver as their eyes met. "Uhm, besides, I just like spending time with you." He felt like that's what he should say for some reason. If possible, Tracey blushed even brighter and held closer onto his arm. Harry could feel her whole body next to his, moving only slightly with each breath she took. It was nice. She was nice.

Harry felt like he could stay like this all night, but Tracey glanced at her watch after what felt like only a couple of minutes, but had been a fair bit longer. Her head had somehow ended up resting on Harry's shoulder, letting him see the time as she did.

"I'm going to have to go soon. I wish I didn't…" she whispered, looking up at him. Their eyes met again. "But I'm glad I got to speak to you for a little bit."

"I wish you could stay longer… This is so nice…" Harry whispered too. His breathing was ragged now, and he could feel Tracey's was too. Was she feeling as nervous as he was? He didn't know what he was supposed to do or say, just that he didn't want to do anything to ruin this. Tracey was looking up at him, blushing but holding his gaze. She was biting her lip. She did that a lot.

When she realized where he was looking, though, she stopped. She became very still, her breathing stopped and she only moved to place her hand over his, and lift up her head from his shoulder, moving her face closer. Harry would never know what prompted him to reciprocate and meet her lips with his.

They only touched for a second or two, but Harry was more than jolted to full awareness then. He felt Tracey move her lips against his for a second, then pull away, her eyes wide.

"Tracey, I…" Harry began, suddenly worried that he'd screwed up horribly, but she held his hand tight and made no further move to pull away.

"No, shhh," she said, placing a finger on his lips. "I really, really need to go. I'm already late. But it was totally worth it. I wish I could stay here all night with you," she whispered. "And if you do that again, I don't think I'll be able to leave," she added, giggling despite herself.

Now it was Harry's turn to blush profusely, as they both rose again and began to walk back inside. As they did, they came across Blaise and Morag, who also happened to be holding hands. They all exchanged awkward smiles as their hands came apart in a flash. Tracey and Morag giggled, while Harry and Blaise let them walk in ahead. Blaise turned to Harry and gave him a wink.

"I was beginning to think you were blind, Harry," he whispered. Harry wasn't sure what he meant, but he didn't have time to ask, as they stepped inside to find Ted and Daphne playing gobstones and chatting quietly about the upcoming year.

Ted raised his eyebrow at Harry, and Daphne just grinned. "Well, helloooo, birthday boy," she began with a grin, slowly rising from her seat before stumbling forward slightly, having to catch herself on the table.

"Sorry to disappoint but we're not pairing the spares," Ted said wryly as he rose too. He gave Harry a grin as he stepped towards him. "I probably should go too, though." He gave Harry a hug, wishing him a happy birthday again, before everyone made their way back to the living room and said their goodbyes. When it came to Tracey Harry lingered a bit, hugging her for longer than strictly necessary, before she stepped onto the fireplace and Floo-ed away.

Mrs. Zabini had had tea with Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass, and was still waiting for Blaise. After they apparated away and Ted took the Knight Bus, it was just Harry and Daphne left. They made their way upstairs, with Harry helping Daphne, who had obviously consumed slightly too much butterbeer, along the way.

"Don't think I'm not going to pump you for the details tomorrow," she said with a giggle as Harry took her to her room.

"But you get a pass right now. Happy birthday again," she said as Harry helped her to bed.

"Thanks for the party Daphne," he said. "Almost made up for all the ones I didn't have growing up." He gave her a hug before letting her fall back into bed. As he was closing the door, he saw her turn to one of her many quidditch posters and giggle.

"Ooooh, Gwenog, am I invited to the victory party…." Blinking and trying to not think where that was going, Harry shut Daphne's door and was quickly asleep in his own bed.

* * *

The next day they slept in late. Fortunately, it was Saturday, so that didn't require any particular indulgence in terms of breakfast time. Mr. Greengrass was relaxed about these matters on the day after a birthday party anyway. That was fortunate, because while Harry woke up with a mild headache, one look at Daphne's demeanour told him she was faring far worse.

"Not one word until I've drank a pot of coffee," was her only, curt greeting. Harry managed to only chuckle a little.

After breakfast and consumption of a healthy amount of caffeine, she did perk up significantly. Harry offered to help clean up the storage room where they'd held his party, but Daphne waved it away.

"Oh, Ziggy will have taken care of that already," she explained, before turning to him with a grin. "Now you have a choice. Either spill the beans about what happened with you and Tracey last night, or get your arse on a broom and put those flying skills to good use. I need someone else to properly practice for quidditch."

Harry was slightly taken aback that they had been that obvious. He kept having the few seconds of that kiss fly through his mind since he'd woken up.

"Alright, what do I need to do? For Quidditch, I mean," he added, although he knew he was going to tell Daphne and Ted what happened at some point. Mostly because he had no idea what he should do next. But in the meantime, he appreciated the delay, and he couldn't refuse to help Daphne with her practice when she'd gone to so much trouble to organize his party anyway.

So he followed her to a literal broom cupboard, except of course the brooms were not meant for cleaning.

"These are not fantastic, but they'll do for us to practice. If I get into the team, dad has promised to buy me a Nimbus 2000. The 2001 model is just out, so the older one's dropped a fair bit in price. It's the perfect sweet spot."

In addition to the brooms, she brought the large ball Harry knew was called the Quaffle. Carrying their brooms, and in Daphne's case her gear, they walked to the tree lined area where they'd eaten their picnic the previous day. Harry watched while Daphne ran to one end of the field and pressed her wand onto a point in the ground. Instantly, the three hooped goals which the keeper was meant to guard sprung up.

"That's clever," Harry said, looking up and grinning, with that bittersweet tinge he felt whenever he saw a particularly clever application of magic to solve a relatively mundane, but annoying, problem. He effortlessly flew towards Daphne, who threw the Quaffle at him.

"I'm going to be the Keeper. Try to score. It's not the same as having three Chasers but you're pretty damn good on a broom, so I'll take it." Harry noticed she was wearing the dragonhide gloves he'd got her for Christmas, and smiled. He didn't mention it, though, instead flying away from the hoops and beginning to circle around Daphne, looking for an opening to strike. When he finally threw the quaffle at the far end hoop, Daphne managed to block it by executing a quick change of direction, but Harry caught it on the rebound and scored on the hoop opposite the one he'd aimed at first.

"Knew you had it in you, come on, another," she yelled as she threw the quaffle back at him. They spent the rest of the morning practising like that. Harry wasn't used to throwing things so hard and his arms felt very sore by the end. Daphne's breath was ragged and there was a hint of sweat down her forehead, but she looked like she'd enjoyed herself immensely.

"That was great. If only we'd been allowed our own brooms last year we could have spent all that time practising. It's such an unfair rule, how are we meant to be ready for tryouts by second year…" Harry had heard this particular rant many times before, and not just from Daphne. Draco Malfoy had repeated it a few times too. He had also mentioned he planned to try out for the team, although he was after the seeker position, which Daphne wasn't interested in.

After lunch, Harry suggested they just fly around for a bit. They could practice twisting and turning maneuvers, but he didn't want any balls to worry about. He did enjoy flying, and he might not be so averse to joining the quidditch team if he didn't feel like there were better uses of his limited time. He valued improving his skills in magic above playing a sport. That didn't mean he wouldn't help Daphne with her ambition. That's what friends were for, after all. Still, practicing maneuvers was a good compromise, as she would need that, especially if she got picked as a Chaser instead of a Keeper.

Harry had good fun doing this for a couple of hours, especially when he pretended to be an oversize bludger and flew at Daphne, who tried to dodge him with remarkable success. When they were taking a break to drink some water, Harry actually began to feel like he _wanted_ to talk about what happened. Before he knew, he was spilling out the previous night's events, even if he tried to do it in a tasteful way.

Daphne looked at him appraisingly. "You know Tracey has had a major crush on you for pretty much all of last year, right?" she asked him.

Harry's eyes widened. He'd known nothing of the sort. "What? No way, Daphne, you're taking the piss, aren't you?"

"What's so weird about that? You're in Slytherin, so she sees you every day. You've actually talked to her and are tutoring her in Transfiguration. And you're the bloody Boy-Who-Lived! Probably half the first year girls have crushes on you. Hell, a few of the boys too, I bet. And hey, even I'll say you're pretty handsome," she added the last bit with a grin. For some reason, Harry was sure that Daphne was not including herself in that category. Still, he felt really embarrassed.

"You're not serious. Oh my God, you're serious, aren't you?" he stammered. Daphne was trying hard not to laugh.

"Oh, Harry, you _are_ so innocent. Anyway, yes, Tracey at least has definitely had a crush on you for a while. Remember we share a dorm. I mean, she's not some crazy fangirl, but she's brought you up enough times that I can tell," she gave him a grin. "I'd've given you a hint, but she thinks _I_ like you. Which I do, as a friend, but not in the way she thinks. So rather than get involved I let her handle it. It was probably your inviting her that gave her the courage to finally do something about it."

Harry was very confused by all this new information. He supposed he knew, intellectually, that people talked about him, especially because of his celebrity status. But he didn't think anyone would be trying to guess whether he liked his friends like that. Still, the realization that Tracey had had a crush on him for ages worried him, because it raised the stakes on anything he did now.

"What do I do now?" he asked, knowing how lamely that sounded. But Daphne was a girl, so had a lot more insight into what girls thought than he did.

Daphne sat against a tree and motioned for Harry to sit next to her.

"What do you _want_ to do?" she asked when he was settled down. "Rather, what do you want to happen? Do you like Tracey?"

Harry felt his mouth go dry as he tried to consider that question. Did he like Tracey? She was really nice, and he had always enjoyed the time they spent together. She was definitely pretty, he thought, knowing he was turning a bit red as he considered it. And kissing her had felt… well, it was very nice. He certainly wouldn't mind doing it again.

"Harry?" Daphne asked, waving her hand in front of his face. "Anyone home?"

"Sorry… I was just thinking," he replied. "I mean, I do like her. But, I don't know that I like her to the point where I want to be her… her boyfriend… I mean," he stammered again.

"You don't have to know. I mean, don't take me as some sort of authority. Hell, I've never kissed anyone, so you're ahead of me in that respect," she took out her wand and began to trace patterns in the air, which left long traces of light coming from the tip. She seemed deep in thought now. A very uncharacteristic sadness emanated from her, making Harry worry that he had actually been wrong and she did have a crush on him.

"Daphne, are you alright?" he asked her, concern evident in his voice. She sighed.

"Sorry, it's nothing. Or, it's nothing to do with you, anyway. I just wish things were simpler sometimes… This is reminding me of some things I'd rather not think about…" she trailed, leaving an awkward silence between them.

"Is there… is there anything I can do?" Harry asked. "Even if it's just listening…"

"I'm not ready to talk about it yet. I'll tell you… I'll tell you when I can. When I'm ready, you'll be the first to know," she told him. "But, it's nothing to do with you. Tracey honestly doesn't need to worry about me," she added, grinning despite herself.

Harry sighed. "Alright, well, whenever you want to talk… I'll be here."

"Thanks Harry. You really are the best mate I could ask for," she said quickly, before returning to the previous topic.

"Enough about me. Tracey, you. You had one kiss, after you both had drunk a lot of butterbeer. That doesn't have to mean anything. I mean, you should let her know where you stand. And don't kiss and tell. As far as everyone else is concerned, we've never had this conversation," she said, mimicking a zipper over her lips. "Although I'm sure you'll tell Ted, and Tracey will tell Millie. That's just how it goes. But don't brag about it."

"I wouldn't do something like that," Harry protested.

"I didn't think you would. But I thought I'd warn you just in case. I don't want to have to hex my best friend, after all." Harry guessed this was a girl solidarity thing. Daphne went on. "Just don't lead her on. You won't be seeing her for a while. Think about what you want to happen, and be honest with her. I think she'll appreciate that more in the end, regardless of how she feels at first. That's my advice. Think how lucky you are for being such good friends with a girl." Daphne's natural good disposition was beginning to assert itself again after her earlier fit of gloom.

Harry nodded. He'd really have to think about that hard. One more thing for him to worry about. They practised Quidditch a bit more, this time with Harry as keeper and Daphne as chaser, until it was time for tea.

"I think you're actually better at being a chaser. I know you'd have to team up with the others, so it's not really the same thing as practising alone, but I think I struggled to keep up with you now a lot more than earlier," Harry told her as they walked back to the Greengrasses' home.

Daphne looked pensive as they walked, taking off her dragonhide gloves before replying.

"Yeah, I think you're right. I'm still going to try for both, but I guess I'll split my practising equally between the two now," she said, as she stepped inside the house. "I never thanked you properly for these gloves, by the way. They're great."

They stored away the brooms and gear back in the cupboard, and after a quick shower were at the dinner table. As usual, Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass asked Harry and Daphne about their time at Hogwarts. It was a safe topic of conversation, and Astoria liked to get in and ask questions too. She was so eager to learn that Harry couldn't help but tease her.

"You might end up in Ravenclaw rather than Slytherin if you're not careful," he said with a grin, laughing when Astoria pulled a face.

"You never mention your head of house, Harry. Old Horace Slughorn was head of Slytherin in my day. I suppose he never paid the firsties a lot of mind, but he was around," Mr. Greengrass said, before pausing. "I suppose Severus Snape is not really the supportive type, is he?"

Now it was Harry's turn to pull a face. "I've barely exchanged two words with him the entire year," he replied, frowning. "He usually gives Slytherin points at the drop of a hat, but you'd think it pains him to give _me_ any. I suppose I'm not the best at potions, but I feel like Crabbe's got more points out of him than I have!"

Mrs. Greengrass was giving Harry an interested look. She seemed to be considering whether to tell him something. Eventually, she came to a decision.

"Severus Snape was a couple of years below me when I was at Hogwarts. It's very strange to think of him as a head of house," she began.

"Dumbledore's quite fond of him," Mr. Greengrass interjected. His wife nodded.

"Your parents were in the same year as Severus," she continued.

"Snape knew my parents?" Harry exclaimed, his eyes wide in surprise.

"Well…" Mrs. Greengrass was trying to choose her words carefully. "He was very good friends with your mother. Even though he was in Slytherin and she was in Gryffindor, they were very close."

Harry was listening to every word with rapt attention. Why had no one told him anything about this before?

"He also did _not_ get along well with your father, I'm sorry to say." Mrs. Greengrass looked like she was trying very carefully to phrase something in the most diplomatic way possible. "Your father, and his friends, really were not very popular with Slytherin students. Especially not with Severus. In fact, they were constantly at each other's throats." Before Harry could ask anything, she forestalled his question. "James, your father, and Severus both gave as good as they got. Please believe me when I say I'm not trying to speak ill of the dead. I'm only telling you this because I think you should know why Professor Snape might be acting the way he is towards you."

Harry felt an amount of inner turmoil at this. His first reaction was to jump to his father's defence, but a few seconds of thinking made him realize that regardless of what the truth had been, what he was hearing from Mrs. Greengrass would be closer to how Snape saw things, and that would help him understand why the man behaved towards him the way he did.

"I understand…" he replied after taking a deep breath. "I really would just like to know, ma'am," he replied, eyes downcast and focused on the plate in front of him, avoiding any eye contact. "Just tell me what you remember, please."

"Of course," Mrs. Greengrass replied sadly, even if she was trying not to make Harry feel pitied. "Well, one day, in a particularly bad fight with your father, Severus had a spell cast on him which…" she carefully weighed her words again. Harry was beginning to understand why Daphne thought her mother was a consummate Slytherin. Her skill at diplomacy certainly was evident. "Did not leave him in a very dignified condition. Your mother tried to help, but he… rejected her help in a very rude manner. I wasn't there, but I'm sure you've already learned what the Hogwarts rumour mill is like. The whole school knew the details before the day was over." Harry wasn't usually that interested in the rumours, but he'd heard the exchanges often enough. He nodded.

"Your mother never quite forgave Severus for that. And not long after, she started going out with your father. That was fairly surprising in itself, because they hadn't got along very well for years. Something must have changed at some point, but for Severus, that turned the dislike for your father into hatred. I'm not defending what he did, but he did try as hard as he could to get your mother to forgive him. I think he blamed James for her never having done so…."

"So, he hated my father? But he liked my mother?" Harry was thoroughly confused by these revelations. "But I can't even remember any of them… What does that have to do with me?"

"You're right that it should have nothing to do with you… But Severus might have a bit of trouble reminding himself of that when you look so much like your father…"

Harry's eyes widened. Was that really why Snape had such a hard time with him? As much as it was strange to think about, it made a lot of sense when he went back and thought of his interactions with the man. He always seemed torn between conflicting impulses when dealing with Harry. If it was because he was now responsible, as Harry's Head of House, for the child of his old enemy, who was also the child of his old friend, whom he had alienated… No wonder the Professor always looked like he'd rather pretend Harry didn't exist. He let out a heavy sigh.

"I think that makes a lot of sense. It's like he can't decide whether he wants to hate me or not," Harry explained. Mrs. Greengrass nodded.

"I don't think I need to tell you that you didn't hear this from me. And I would advise you not to let Severus know you know this at all. I told you because I thought you deserved to know. I'm sure you would know if your parents were still with us."

"Of course. I can keep a secret. I really appreciate your telling me this, Mrs. Greengrass," Harry replied, looking up from his plate to face Daphne's mum.

"Harry loves his secrets," Daphne added, before turning to her mum. "I won't say anything either, obviously. I can't even think of Snape as a student. Was he always so greasy?"

Mrs. Greengrass stifled a grin. "Now that's no way to talk about your Head of House, Daphne. But… He kind of was. He wasn't exactly popular with the ladies. Definitely not like your father, Harry. Not that he ever went out with any Slytherins. Well, not unless they kept it a very well guarded secret."

Mr. Greengrass gave his wife a wry smile. "Anything from your past you'd like to share, dear?" he asked, to his wife's laughter and Daphne and Astoria's grimaces.

"Oh, I should hope he found me too intimidating for that," she replied with a laugh. Daphne had told Harry that her parents had only met after his mum had left Hogwarts, so he supposed it made sense that he would joke with her about that. "I wasn't just a Slytherin, I was a Prefect and then Head Girl."

He was distracted from his parents' and Snape's history, his thoughts drifting to Tracey once again. He was starting to think he didn't really want a girlfriend right now, as nice as kissing her had been. He tried not to show it for the rest of the evening, but was awake long into the night thinking about what he should do.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll just reiterate that just because Harry had one small moment with Tracey here, that does not mean that he will end up with her at the end of the story, or even that he'll actually go out with her. How many of you ended up with the person you've had your first kiss with?
> 
> So nil desperandum, regardless of ship. On the other hand, if you like Harry/Tracey, then enjoy this moment, even if nothing else beyond it is guaranteed.
> 
> As always, I love reviews, so please leave some. I'm especially interested to hear what worked for you and what didn't. It was very hard trying to write age-appropriate romantic moments, so I'd also really like to know if there's anything I can improve in that regard.


	22. Year 2 - Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I haven't lost all my readers after the last chapter. :) If there's anyone left reading, there will be nothing in this chapter to upset any shippers.
> 
> More seriously, thanks again to KellhusTheKing for being my beta. Any remaining errors are, of course, my own. Thanks to everyone who left a review as well.

" _Who is the third who walks always beside you?  
__When I count, there are only you and I together  
__But when I look ahead up the white road  
__There is always another one walking beside you  
__Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded  
__I do not know whether a man or a woman  
_— _But who is that on the other side of you?"  
_T. S. Elliot

Mrs. Greengrass' strange revelations about Professor Snape never left the back of Harry's mind, but he didn't really dedicate much time to them. After all, there was very little he could do about it, short of trying to look less like his father, and he didn't even know how that would be possible. He'd continue with his strategy of doing as little as possible to draw Snape's attention to him, and try to work a bit harder at Potions.

The following days were spent in a blur of Quidditch practices, finishing the remainder of their homework, going for walks around the countryside and even occasional visits to the nearby town of Holt. Daphne didn't seem nearly as unfamiliar with the muggle world as Ted was. Harry assumed this was due to her father having to deal with muggle tenant farmers. When he brought this up, as they sat in a park eating very muggle ice cream, Daphne was quick to reply.

"If you're filthy rich like the Malfoys, then you can afford to never have to deal with muggles if that's what you like. And you aren't really any worse off for it. But for most people, even purebloods, the only reason to do it is if you hate muggles more than you miss the things you can get from them. At the end of the day, there just aren't that many of us." Harry nodded at this. Daphne went on. "Of course, it's hard to not do magic when you're used to doing it all the time. That's why we keep separate most of the time. I don't know how people like Tracey's dad manage to spend enough time around muggles to marry them, without ever breaking the statute of secrecy. Seems like a load of effort to me."

Harry ruminated on that until it was time to go home. He later sat in bed, having retired a bit earlier, and continued to read through Daphne's present, _Duelling for Dummies_. The book was very much targeted at competitive duelling, which was a sport of sorts in the wizarding world. Harry found that a lot more appealing than Quidditch. It was a shame that there didn't seem to be any organized competition at Hogwarts. Fights in the hallways didn't count.

He thought about that for a second. Their Charms teacher, Professor Flitwick, was known to have been a duelling champion in his youth, belying his diminutive stature. He wondered if he would be willing to organize a duelling club of some kind. He made a note to ask him once term had started. If not, he'd have to organize some kind of practise with his friends. They'd already had some impromptu duels during their defence practises, but competitive duels had a bunch of rules, which the first chapters of the book had spent some time describing. This was before there was any discussion of spells. In fact, a passage from the book had stuck in his memory, highlighting the importance of practising.

_The most important skill for a dueller is not the size of one's spell repertoire, not even any particular spell, but the ability to think on one's feet and react quickly to what one's opponent does. While some of us are born with faster reaction times than others, there is no substitute for practice in developing this skill. The wizard who knows ten thousand spells can be felled by someone with a bit of wit and a stunning charm, if he is not fast on his feet._

This made perfect sense. He was sure the last sentence was a bit of hyperbole on the author's part, but the point stood without it. After some discussion of the importance of being able to move nimbly, because most spells were very hard to dodge if at all possible, the book finally began the part Harry had been looking for, that of basic spells. Of course, he needed to know _some_ spells if he was going to practice, something which the author himself seemed to recognize, because he had divided his book into four sections, with a further section on more advanced techniques, and the fourth on more advanced spells.

Harry was somewhat heartened to find out that he knew a fair few of the basic spells already. Things like the Knock-Back Jinx and the Full-Body Bind were taught as part of first year Defence Against the Dark Arts, although Quirrell's delivery made him question how many people had actually learnt them. It was no skin off his back, anyway. Other spells were part of the curriculum for higher years, but were so ubiquitous that first years with Harry's drive didn't have any issue picking them up, like the disarming charm. While he skimmed through those chapters for tips to make his casting more effective, he was more interested when he got to spells he didn't already know how to cast.

Two spells that seemed very important were the Stunning Spell and the Shield Charm. They were both O.W.L. level spells, so Harry wasn't sure whether he would be able to cast them. Although there was only one way to find out, and that was to try. He wasn't about to do it then, from his bed, though, so he read all he could about them, practicing the wand movements-which weren't that complex to begin with-and incantations. The interesting thing about both spells was that the only practical way to tell that they were working required a partner, one to test whether it actually made them lose consciousness, the other to cast a spell at the shield and see if it held up. So he was definitely going to draft Daphne's help the next day. She could use a break from Quidditch, anyway. They just needed to stay sufficiently close to the house to fool the Improper Use of Magic Office into thinking an adult had cast them. Maybe they could use the former stables where they'd had his birthday dinner. All that was needed was something soft to cushion their landing in case they actually managed to cast the Stunning Spell.

Having decided on that course for the next day, Harry checked the time to find it was one in the morning, and he had spent way too long reading. Fortunately, once he put the book down he was asleep soon.

Daphne proved amenable to the suggestion, as long as they could make up with some Quidditch in the afternoon. Besides, he was reading _her_ present, after all. She seemed quite happy for Harry to take an interest in competitive dueling, which Harry had been hoping for-it was still a form of sport, after all. She saw it similarly to Harry helping her with Quidditch.

"Alright, what do you want to start with?" she asked, once they were in the old stables. For ease of movement, they'd both changed into muggle clothing, unlike the robes they'd been wearing most of the time, at least when not in the sight of muggles.

"I'd say the Shield Charm sounds a _bit_ easier," Harry replied. "Besides, we already know plenty of offensive spells, but not that many defensive ones…"

"Pretty ironic considering we take _Defence_ Against the Dark Arts, isn't it?" Daphne replied with a grin. "Do you think you can cast it?"

"Only one way to find out," Harry replied, holding out his wand and shouting " _Protego_." As he did, a shimmering shield appeared in front of him, even if it took a lot of his concentration to keep it up. Once she saw that the shield was holding, Daphne shot a Knockback Jinx at him. The shield managed to stop it, but when she followed it with the Disarming Charm, it got through and made Harry's wand go flying out of his hand, even if the strength with which it did so was less than when he'd been previously hit with the same spell.

"Well, that wasn't a complete failure," Harry said as he picked his wand back up.

"My turn," Daphne replied, casting the spell, which resulted in a similar shield, with a similar outcome.

"Alright, we've got the basics right. Let's forget about the Stunning Spell for today and just get on with this. The book said that cast expertly, it shouldn't take any concentration to keep it up, and should continue holding against most jinxes. Let's just take turns. See if you think my wand motions are alright," Harry said.

"Yes Professor," Daphne replied with a grin, though Harry could tell she was actually enjoying herself.

They practiced for the rest of the morning, and while definitely not up to the standard the book deemed as proficient, they had got noticeably better. Then again, the book was intended for adult wizards, so what they were doing was already pretty impressive. But Harry wouldn't settle for mediocrity. Slytherin was the house of the ambitious, after all.

After a few more days of mixed quidditch and spellcasting practice, they had got much better at both. Harry had written Ted about their practice, and he surprised Harry by saying he already knew how to cast the Shield Charm, even if they had probably got better at it than he was. Now that was definitely interesting. Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to know why Ted knew that. He definitely didn't know how to cast the Stunning Spell, though, which they hadn't got to practice yet. Ted had urged Harry and Daphne to learn it so they could teach him as soon as they got to Hogwarts. It'd be really cool to be able to do an O.W.L. level spell like that as a second year. Harry definitely agreed with that. It wasn't even like when they practiced some dodgy spells Ted had found in his father's library. Both these spells were part of the curriculum, so it was like they were studying for classes.

The Stunning Spell turned out to be much harder to cast, though. They managed to produce a red light, alright, but it was seldom effective at doing what it was supposed to, which was knock one of them out. They _had_ managed it a couple of times, but were yet to find a way of producing that effect reliably. It'd be no good without that.

"Do you think your dad could help us?" Harry asked Daphne after a frustrating failed attempt, just after he'd managed two consecutive successes and thought he was onto the trick.

"I know for a fact he has a N.E.W.T. in Defence, so I'm sure he can," Daphne replied. "I just hope he doesn't think we're too young to be learning this…"

"Maybe we can show him how far we've got with the Shield Charm," Harry suggested. "Then he can see we're serious about it…"

"Yeah, let's just get through tonight's dinner first, though. Don't want to stress him too much. He's really worried about this Barty Crouch person who's coming. He's a big muckety muck at the Ministry, and apparently has got a massive stick up his arse."

"What does he do?" Harry asked as they went back into the main, lived-in parts of the house.

"Oh, he's the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation," Daphne replied. "Dad's got a pet project to record old international legislation that requires the cooperation of the International Confederation of Wizards. I don't really understand it all myself. Besides, his support could be important if it came time to a promotion to head of the Wizengamot Administration Services," she trailed.

Harry grimaced. He'd already caught a few glimpses of the bureaucratic horse-trading that went on in the Ministry from casual conversations with Mr. Greengrass, but the full show was going to be on at dinner. At least there'd be a few other people there, though none of them had children of an age where they'd get dragged along, which at least meant Harry didn't have to awkwardly socialize with someone who he'd exchanged two words with at school. Not that he was completely avoiding that, as there _would_ be such a gathering soon. But he'd worry about that later. _Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof._

They practised some more Quidditch in the afternoon, though they finished earlier than usual to get ready for dinner. They wouldn't exactly be dressing _formally_ , but Harry did wear a slightly posher set of robes than usual. Astoria seemed radiant in a set of very girly, light pink robes, and even Daphne wore something slightly more elaborate and feminine than usual, even if with distinctly less enthusiasm than her sister.

Guests began to arrive at about seven. In addition to Mr. Crouch, they had been expecting someone named Cuthbert Mockridge, who was head of the Goblin Liaison Office, which only reminded Harry of Binns' lectures, but was apparently a very prestigious position, and a witch by the name of Loretta Fieldwake, who was a special advisor for Elf Legislation. Harry was _not_ looking forward to the conversation at the dinner table, especially if it included House Elves as the subject. But as a good, dutiful guest, he was at his best behaviour as he was introduced to these worthies, and in the case of Mr. Mockridge, his wife as well.

They all seemed very impressed with Harry, especially Mr. Crouch, who seemed to be looking at Mr. Greengrass with newfound respect. He had forewarned Harry about Mr. Crouch's past.

"He used to be head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement during the War. He used fairly ruthless methods, which were actually quite popular at the time. After you were attacked, he was heavily tipped to be the next Minister of Magic, since Dumbledore had refused the post. But then, his own son was found to be a Death Eater. And not just any Death Eater, but one who, together with the Lestranges, tortured the Longbottoms into insanity with the Cruciatus Curse." Mr. Greengrass was normally a calm and collected man, but he shuddered at the memory of this. "It was one of the most horrifying things I have ever known about. I remember seeing Frank and Alice Longbottom at the Ministry. Bright young couple, from one of the best families in the country, with a young son." The memory of those dark days cast a shadow over Mr. Greengrass. "I don't mean to disparage all the murders that were commited," Mr. Greengrass added, with a pointed look at Harry which told him he meant his parents. "But what they did to them consigned them to a kind of living death. It was horrible…"

Harry nodded, not taking any offence. His mind had latched on to something else, anyway.

"Did you say Longbottom, sir? There's a Gryffindor in my year called Neville Longbottom…"

"Yes, he was born very close to your birthday. Those were his parents. I have a passing acquaintance with his Grandmother, Augusta. Frank's mother…" Mr. Greengrass trailed. "But you have to excuse me. I'm becoming a bit of a rambler as middle age hits," he smiled wryly. "I was trying to warn you about Barty Crouch. Obviously, failing to realize that his own son was a Death Eater caused his downfall. Not only did he not become Minister, but he had to leave the Office of Magical Law Enforcement in complete disgrace. He disowned his son at the trial, but the damage was done. I was just starting at the Ministry back then, and I was the recorder at that trial. He was begging his father for mercy as he was being led out." Mr. Greengrass seemed to be reliving that moment. It had obviously left a lasting impact. "Of course, that would have been a lot more poignant if he didn't have Bellatrix Lestrange next to him, bragging about how they were the Dark Lord's most loyal servants. That didn't make his protestations of innocence very convincing. But Crouch Sr. still got hit with a double whammy. On the one hand he missed what was under his nose the whole time, which made his competence very questionable. On the other, well, he was perceived by many in the public as being quite heartless. He no longer had any hope of becoming Minister."

Harry noticed Mr. Greengrass was being very careful never to give his actual opinions. Part of that was probably his work as a recorder, part his background as a Slytherin. Harry was very curious to know what he really thought, but he knew better than to actually ask him directly.

"Why are you telling me all this, Mr. Greengrass?" he asked instead. "I mean, it _is_ very interesting, but I'm sure you're not just doing it to entertain me," he added wryly.

Mr. Greengrass smiled. "You're quite right, Harry. I'm just giving you the background to understand my warning that he's a very truculent man, who is very sensitive about any mention of the War and any events therein. I'm sure he will appreciate making your acquaintance, otherwise I wouldn't have him here while you are, but at the same time I'm warning you lest you inadvertently say anything which might put him out."

Harry nodded. The information was useful, and you could never know too much, anyway. But that definitely made sense. "I'll remember that. Thanks for letting me know!"

So when he met Mr. Crouch, he made sure to keep any conversation limited to his current role at the Department of International Magical Cooperation. He really was a bit of a blowhard. Someone should have told him that toothbrush mustaches went out of fashion in 1939. Daphne and Astoria kept him busy talking about Canada, though, and since Harry would really rather not think of house elves at all, much less talk about them, he ended up mostly talking to Mr. and Mrs. Mockridge. He found the latter particularly interesting. She was an Arithmancy researcher, while Harry knew very little about the subject other than that it was one of the electives he would be able to take from third year. He asked her about it, and she told him about the different uses, especially curse breaking. Apparently the job of Curse Breaker at Gringotts required a NEWT in the subject.

"Does it have anything to do with the counter-curses we learn in Defence as well?" Harry asked her. She nodded.

"Arithmancy isn't necessary to create a spell, or devise a counter-spell. But it definitely makes it easier. And, might I add, at least in the case of spells which have been created arithmantically, understanding the numbers tends to make the spell easy to cast. However, the real advantage is when you come across a curse you don't know, or don't even know whether something is cursed or not. That's why it's so important if you're, say, one of Gringotts' curse breakers, digging somewhere like an Egyptian tomb…"

This fascinated Harry, and not just because it was an insight into a possible career path in the wizarding world, something he knew very little about. Rather, it was that it opened a window into the creative process that went into designing spells, which he'd not really thought about before.

"I think I just might be signing up for Arithmancy next year," he said, to an approving nod. "Septima Vector is strict, but she has a very good reputation. Besides, there's not exactly a wealth of options to choose…" Harry had the feeling she was about to launch into a rant, but her husband cut in.

"It's a shame they don't put on a class on Being issues. There's Care of Magical Creatures but that hardly prepares anyone to deal with Goblins, or any other Being, really. We have to deliver a lot of on the job training to get people up to speed."

This got Mr. Crouch's attention, who after warming up with a little rant on the declining standards at Hogwarts, turned to Harry, looking like he was about to have a stroke.

"Why, I'm reliably informed that even such an important, core class such as Defence Against the Dark Arts, was in this last year taught by a man who turned out to be an incompetent thief."

Harry certainly wasn't going to be expanding on the thief part. He had almost managed to forget what he'd done to Quirrell, bar the occasional nightmare, or late night sleepless thoughts.

"He was definitely very incompetent. We basically had to start a study group to read ahead and practice, because we could barely understand anything he was saying in class."

"He also smelled like a rotting corpse," Daphne interjected with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Harry almost choked on his food, trying to keep from laughing. Mrs. Greengrass wasn't looking too happy, but Mr. Greengrass was biting his lip to keep from any overt displays of mirth.

Other than that, the dinner went without incident, even if Harry was very bored by the conversation. Still, he knew it was important to Mr. Greengrass, so he grinned and bore it until the guests finally left.

Mr. Greengrass leaned against the fireplace and let out a heavy sigh of relief when the last guest departed. After turning off the Floo, he gave Harry a grateful look and offered him, Daphne, and Astoria a butterbeer for their troubles. They stayed downstairs talking for a while, and after Astoria and Mrs. Greengrass excused themselves, Harry decided to broach the subject of the Stunning Spell. When he'd finished, Mr. Greengrass gave him and Daphne an impressed look.

"Looks like that's one effective study group you've been running. Can you demonstrate the Shield Charm for me?" he asked.

They both nodded, and stepped back before taking turns casting it. Mr. Greengrass sent a Stinging Hex their way, then watched as it was deflected by their respective shields, which now looked much more solid than they had when they'd begun practicing it.

"It's been a while since I cast one of those," he said with a grin, as they cancelled the charms. "You never really forget." Harry smiled. The Stinging Hex had been one of the first spells he ever learned, and not because it was part of the curriculum. He turned to Daphne. "I'm really proud of you for being able to cast this spell at your age," he said solemnly. "There are too many adult wizards and witches, even those working at the Ministry, who can't manage this."

Daphne wasn't often embarrassed, but she blushed at her father's praise. Harry looked away, feeling like he was intruding on a family moment, and also bitterly reminded that he'd never get to hear his own father praise him for a feat of magic.

"And you too, Harry," he told him. "I'm glad Daphne's friends with someone with such drive. It will serve you well."

He then walked towards a large sofa, and bade Harry to sit on it.

"Alright, Daphne, please try casting the Stunning Spell on Harry." Daphne again succeeded in producing a red light, but it didn't even make Harry feel a little sleepy. They then swapped roles, to the same result. Mr. Greengrass had watched the spellcasting keenly.

"Sometimes, slight deviations from the textbook way of casting the spell can help you cast it better. Magic can't be completely boiled down to a simple set of instructions. They are necessary, because we can't expect everyone to discover the best way of casting every single spell by themselves. But ultimately, it is our minds that control the magic, and if your mind resists some particular element of the textbook instructions, you may be well advised to ignore them. I'm inclined to believe this is the case, because you both said you have been able to cast it successfully, but you can't reproduce that result." Harry and Daphne nodded. That seemed like a sensible explanation. "Sometimes it's not even going against the instructions, but adding an individual flourish. I always turn around when I'm apparating, for instance. I always find it helps me focus better. But that's just my particular trick. Now Harry, you've tried casting this a lot of times, I'm sure. Try casting it, but if your hand wants to deviate from the textbook movements at some point, let it do so. Daphne, sit down, please."

Harry did as instructed, thrusting the tip of his wand forward at the last syllable as he always felt compelled to do, even if he'd resisted it out of adherence to the instructions. As the red light hit Daphne, Harry was rewarded as he watched, wide-eyed, as she slumped forwards, her father catching her before she hit the floor.

"She was supposed to lean backwards," he shook his head, before silently casting the counterspell. "Can you try again, Harry?" Harry repeated the attempt twice, now being rewarded with success every time.

"This is brilliant. Thank you so much, Mr. Greengrass," Harry said, still surprised that he had managed to make it work. Mr. Greengrass shrugged.

"I only gave you a few pointers. I'm hardly a Professor," he replied with a grin. "Now it's your turn to serve as a test dummy, Harry. Do lean back now."

Harry did as instructed, as he watched Daphne cast the same spell. He noticed she handled it a little differently, starting with a slashing motion before proceeding in the textbook manner. All Harry could see was a flash of red light before the darkness came.

He woke with a start. It was only now, after experiencing it, that he realized it was the spell Quirrell had hit him with. That left him a little shaken. He knew what he was going to dream about for the night. Still, he didn't want to show weakness, so he sat through the next couple of attempts until they realized that Daphne, too, had got the hang of it.

"Again, I'm extremely impressed," Mr. Greengrass remarked. He was resting a hand on each of their shoulders, but looking mostly at Daphne, with a look of evident pride. Still, he couldn't resist adding "Now that I've seen what you're capable of, your marks better live up to it," with a grin. Mr. Greengrass was a serious man most of the time, but occasionally Harry saw these glimpses of a wry sense of humour not that different from Daphne's.

After warning them not to use that spell willy nilly in school, Mr. Greengrass let them go upstairs. As they walked, Harry could tell how happy Daphne was with her father's praise. He tried to forget about his own misfortune and be happy for his friend. When he finally went to bed, Harry was awake for a long time, the dreaded memories of the day he killed Quirrell running through his mind in an endless loop, until exhaustion finally overtook him and he succumbed to a nightmare-filled sleep.

* * *

Not long after, a letter from Hogwarts arrived for both Harry and Daphne. Not only did it instruct them to catch the Hogwarts Express as usual, but included a list of books to buy for the year, including seven books by someone named Gilderoy Lockhart. The Greengrasses seemed to be familiar with the name, and Harry gathered they didn't exactly share the same opinion. Mr. Greengrass seemed to think the man was a buffoon, but his wife thought him a very impressive wizard. When they were alone, Daphne explained this Lockart person was a bit of a celebrity hero.

"Mum has a crush on him. Well, half the witches in Britain do, I suppose. It's not a big deal."

The letter was soon followed by the planning for their trip to Diagon Alley for school supplies. As planned, they wrote Ted to arrange to meet up there. They chose to go on the Saturday, when Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass could both go and side-along apparate one of them each. The neatness of that plan was ruined when Astoria insisted on going too, but this was easily resolved with Mrs. Greengrass apparating back for her.

Side along apparition was slightly disconcerting, but unlike the Knight Bus, at least it was over quickly, and he was soon glancing at the shops lining Diagon Alley.

"You should go ahead and get your glasses, Harry," Mrs. Greengrass told him. Harry had almost forgotten about that. "We'll just take Daphne and Astoria for ice cream. Come meet us at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour when you're ready, will you?"

Harry nodded, and after getting directions to the opticians, made his way there. After the usual star-struck reaction upon finding out who he was, the service was professional and quick. Much quicker than the little he remembered from the muggle opticians, but he supposed that was going to be the case when the optician could do magic.

He was placed under something that looked remarkably like a muggle optician's examination apparatus, but which moved by magic and responded to the optician's wand movements. He only had to answer a few questions about how his sight varied with different lenses, before he had a prescription ready. He really should have had this done a long time ago, because he could see much better with the new prescription than he had been able to with the old.

Then it was time to choose the frame, and any charms he wanted placed on the finished product. He opted for a rectangular shape for the lenses, rather than the circular one he had worn until then. Since the voucher he had got from the Greengrasses was fairly generous, he also opted for a number of useful charms: water proofing, protection against removal, magical hardening to prevent them from being crushed, and a number of other clever enhancements. Magic really was so cool.

The glasses would take a couple of days to be made ready, but he wouldn't need to come back to Diagon Alley to pick them up-they'd just get owled to him. After concluding that, Harry found the Greengrasses at the ice cream parlour, where Mrs. Greengrass insisted on buying him an ice cream to go.

He got a small chocolate cone, and they all walked the short distance to Gringotts. Harry had almost forgotten the wild ride to the vaults, on carts which were _one speed only_. They got to his vault before the Greegrassess', so he told them to carry on, as he wanted to look through it for any family heirlooms that might have been moved there when his parents were killed.

"There's a bell outside. Ring it when you want picked up. And don't wander, if you know what's good for you," the goblin manning the cart warned him, before speeding away with the others. When they were gone, Harry first got the money he'd need for the year, before walking around the vault trying to find anything that was _not_ money. His quest was successful. Those items had been placed at the bac, probably to make access to the money easier. Harry eagerly jogged forward to the pile of books which first caught his attention.

Unfortunately, there were definitely too many books for him to be able to sort through that day. However, he did find the pile of Hogwarts textbooks, and made a point of bringing two specific books: his father's old third year transfiguration book, and his mother's fifth year Defence book.

Moving on from the books, he found a veritable treasure trove of family papers inside a box. He _was_ definitely going to take those. Grateful for the ability of magic to enhance the storage his satchel provided, while making it weighless at the same time, he slotted them in carefully next to the books before examining some more boxes. His search was rewarded with a treasure trove of jewelry. Well, what looked like a treasure trove to a boy who hadn't seen much jewelry, anyway. Most of it looked fairly recent, however there were some things which screamed 'family heirloom' even to someone who had very little experience of such things. Of course, to some degree magic made such things harder to gauge, because it could be used to preserve these items a lot better than muggle means could.

He hadn't dared to hope for what he was looking for, even if he thought it was worth the few seconds of the search. But hope or not, he was successful. He found an old silver ring with the Peverell crest on it. Alas, it was not the Gaunt ring-there was no stone capping it and bearing the Peverell crest. Rather, it was simply engraved in the silver, on the ring's flat top. Harry certainly didn't think the ring had any magical properties. But he would keep it as a constant reminder of the goal he had assigned himself. Slipping it on his finger, he picked up his satchel and stepped outside his vault, locking the door behind him and making a mental note to return for the books when he had more time. He rang the bell and had a much longer journey back to the surface, due to picking up two other wizards at different vaults. Mr. Greengrass and Daphne had only been waiting for a short time, and had been happy to recover from the cart journey anyway. Mrs. Greengrass and Astoria had gone ahead to Madam Malkins, while Mr. Greengrass walked with them to Flourish & Blotts, where they had scheduled to meet with Ted. Once they got there, they were greeted by the unexpected sight of a couple of familiar faces.

Standing by one of the many bookshelves containing Gilderoy Lockhart's opus, were Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom. The former was accompanied by a couple of upper-middle class looking muggles, who were obviously her parents. They were looking around wide eyed, and trying very hard _not_ to stare at the vulture hat the old woman accompanying Longbottom was wearing, even indoors. Harry couldn't blame them, to be honest. It looked ridiculous, but she was a formidable looking woman otherwise.

Harry remembered Mr. Greengrass had said he knew Longbottom's grandmother, and indeed, he walked straight to her once he saw her.

"Hello Augusta, hadn't seen you in a while," he greeted her. Harry didn't think Mr. Greengrass was very enthusiastic about this run-in, but he dutifully extended his hand as the Longbottom matron replied.

"Ah, Christian, indeed, it's been too long. Here for your daughter's Hogwarts books?" she asked as she shook Mr. Greengrass' hand, her gaze finding Daphne, before coming to rest on Harry. "And who is this? Friend of Daphne's?"

"Indeed, this is Harry Potter," Mr. Greengrass said, urging him forward. Harry suspected that Mrs. Longbottom knew exactly who he was, but he was going to play the game if that's what the adults wanted. "He's one of Daphne's best friends. Harry, meet Augusta Longbottom."

Harry nodded and shook the woman's hand, while Neville was giving him a slightly unhappy look. "You'll know Neville, of course," she said, vaguely pointing at her grandson. "Although I'm sure that being in Slytherin you won't cross paths very often."

Harry and Daphne smiled politely. "Mostly Potions class, m'am," he replied. Mrs. Longbottom then introduced Granger's parents to Mr. Greengrass, Harry, and Daphne. Harry knew his host was perfectly capable of handling muggles, so just smiled until it was his turn to greet them.

As Daphne took Harry's place, his eyes drifted over to Granger, who Harry could tell was slightly surprised by how well the Greengrasses were handling the meeting. To Harry's slight shame, he'd told her in annoyance that he had been raised by muggles, when she caught him reading a tome on the history of pureblood families. So his being able to handle it shouldn't cause any surprise.

"Granger, Longbottom," he greeted with a nod. There was no reason to be hostile, after all, especially in front of the adults, who were now talking among themselves as Daphne had joined them.

"What happened to your hair," Granger blurted, to Daphne's raised eyebrow.

Harry grinned. It's not like Daphne and Granger were in familiar terms, but the hair cut did make for a striking change in his friend's appearance. Harry had known it was coming, but for someone who didn't… That didn't stop Longbottom from cringing at Hermione's perceived social _faux pas_ , though. Honestly, this was a Gryffindor? Even Harry himself was braver than that.

At any rate, Daphne wasn't about to go off at Granger. Harry thought that she secretly enjoyed surprising people with her change in looks, and at any rate was quite proud of how she'd turned out.

"Going to try out for the Slytherin Quidditch team, and don't want it to get in the way. Besides, I just like it better this way. Even with magic, it's so much easier to handle now." She gave Granger a smirk. "Maybe you should try it too."

Granger didn't look happy with that comment, and a glance at her bushy hair was enough to know why. Then again, Harry's hair wasn't exactly long, and was a complete mess anyway. Just when Harry thought the situation couldn't get more awkward, Ted finally arrived.

"Hello Harry, Daphne!" he greeted, before realizing there were other people around. "Longbottom, Granger," he waved half-heartedly, before the adults' attention bore down on him.

Harry had been dreading this moment, because he knew Mr. Greengrass had some reservations about Ted, due to his father. Of course, Harry also knew these reservations were fully justified with regard to the father, but not in the slightest when it came to the son. That said, if there was one thing he knew about Mr. Greengrass, was that he was not inclined to draw attention to himself, and the last thing he'd do was make a scene. He wasn't so sure about Augusta Longbottom, however.

Fortunately, Harry was spared having to rely on his underdeveloped social finesse to handle the situation, as Daphne took charge. Come to think of it, considering it was her father they were dealing with, that made a lot of sense.

"Dad, this is Theodore Nott. We usually just call him Ted, though." Harry could tell she was nervous, but all things considered, handling it remarkably well. Mr. Greengrass cast Ted an inquisitive look. Ted held his gaze well, coming across as respectful without being servile.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Greengrass," he said. "Thank you for having me over at Harry's birthday," he added.

Mr. Greengrass nodded as he shook Ted's hand. "I know how much having you over meant to Harry and Daphne," he replied noncommittally. Ted knew that was about as much as he'd get, so he withdrew his hand with a nod, before Augusta Longbottom came bearing down. Chagrined at this extra complication, Daphne made the introductions again. She gave Ted a jaundiced eye.

"Constantine Nott's boy, are you?" she asked.

"He is my father," he replied glumly. The old woman replied with a cackle.

"I see he didn't bother to come along with you. Or maybe you'd rather not have him along yourself. Can't say I blame you."

Ted was looking grimmer by the minute. If it had been another student he'd've been hexed by now. Instead, he just said "My father was busy today, m'am, but I wanted to meet my friends, so I just took the Knight Bus."

Mr. Greengrass noted the tension and tried to diffuse it by getting everyone to look for the books.

"We've already got all of Professor Lockhart's books picked out," Granger said.

" _Professor_ Lockhart?" Daphne asked with a surprised look.

"Yes, haven't you heard? He announced it yesterday when he was here giving away signed copies of his books. Oh, I do wish he could have done that today instead," Granger said quickly with an adoring look in her eyes.

"Christ Almighty Granger, are you serious?" Daphne asked with a look of disgust. Harry could see Mr. Greengrass giving his daughter an approving look. Granger shot her a frown.

"He's done so many amazing things! I've only had time to look through the back cover blurbs, but he sounds like he knows so much. It's going to be amazing to have him teach us Defence…"

"I can't see how he could be worse than Quirrell. Looks like you're going to be too distracted to pay attention, though" Daphne replied tartly. Even Longbottom grinned at this, as did Harry and Ted. Although Harry still didn't know much about this Lockhart person, he was beginning to gather than most wizards were not fans of him, while most witches were quite enthralled. Obviously not all, as Daphne did not seem impressed by him in the slightest, and to be fair neither did Mrs. Longbottom, who was regarding the pile of books with distaste. That was enough to raise alarm bells, of course. Even if Harry wasn't exactly an expert on these matters, he assumed the man must be quite good looking.

Meanwhile, Granger looked quite outraged at Daphne's suggestion. "That has nothing to do with anything… I, uh, don't know what you're talking about," she stammered, but Daphne just gave her a grin and turned to Harry and Ted.

"I guess this is going to be another year of Study Group Defence. What do you guys say we just buy a set of these things?" she asked, gathering all seven of Lockhart's books into a pile.

"These just seem to be narrative," Ted said as he began to skim through them. "How are we supposed to learn from this?"

"You're supposed to learn from how he handled the dangers he was in!" Granger intervened. Harry could swear Ted had forgotten she was there, but he'd seen how her eyes had lit up at the mention of a 'Study Group.' For the first time, Harry regretted that particular choice of words.

"But we have to read all the other drivel to get to that. Listen to this," Daphne began, taking the book from Ted's hands.

"' _Then I dazzled the banshee with my smile-_ Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile five time winner- _until she could no longer contain her adoration…'_ Bloody wars, this is such rubbish." She threw the book on the pile. "Yes, let's only get one set. It's probably one too many."

Meanwhile, Harry had been gathering the remainder of their required books, all of which they _were_ taking one per person. He caught Mr. Greengrass' eye, who levitated them all towards the counter, excusing himself from Mrs. Longbottom and the Grangers. Harry, Daphne and Ted joined him and quickly settled their accounts.

"I suppose you kids will want to have the day out for yourselves," he said after paying the shop clerk. Harry raised an eyebrow at that, not expecting such a generous offer, and not really sure whether it would be polite to accept immediately. Fortunately, Daphne took care of that problem for him.

"That'd be great, dad. Can you take our stuff too?" she asked.

"Between your mother and I we should manage," he replied with a wry smile. "Be back home for dinner. It was good meeting you, Theodore," he said, nodding at Ted before stalking off, waving goodbye at Mrs. Longbottom and the Grangers, who were still looking through the bookshop. Knowing Granger, she'd be here a while. For his part, Ted just arranged to pick up the books before he left. Soon the three friends were out in Diagon Alley, free of supervision, and looking for a place to eat lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quieter chapter after the ship-filled last one. As always, I love reviews, so please leave some. I'm especially interested to hear what worked for you and what didn't. So please, review, review.


	23. Year 2 - Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the delay in the last few chapters. I've been dealing with some tough personal issues that mean my time and motivation to write isn't as strong as it was. Between that, and my beta having to take a leave of absence for this one, due to completely understandable reasons, this chapter might be a bit rougher than usual. Thanks to everyone who left a review as well. Speaking of which...
> 
> DuchessEglantine: You are, of course, right in saying that I don't have a good grasp of childhood development. I have never studied the subject, and frankly, if doing so was a prerequisite to writing Harry Potter fanfiction, I wouldn't have bothered. 
> 
> I have a two point reply. The first is that you seem to be bothered by the narrator's word choice at some points, rather than Harry's or any of the other kids. But this is not written in the first person. The narrator is *not* Harry, even if they share points of view for most of the story. Third person narration, even when limited POV and non-omniscient, can introduce a measure of detachment from the character whose point of view is being used.
> 
> The second is that, well, I guess I was probably a precocious eleven year old. Would Hermione not know what a clarification was? Since I don't have the personal experience of being any other eleven year old, and frankly, because if the average eleven year old is really like you describe, then writing about them probably wouldn't be very interesting, this is just going to have to one of those things the reader will have to suspend disbelief for. If that pulls you out of the story to the extent that you can't keep reading, I'm sorry. I hope that's not the case. If it's any consolation, it'll get better as the characters age.

" _This is the spot:—how mildly does the sun  
_ _Shine in between the fading leaves! the air  
_ _In the habitual silence of this wood  
_ _Is more than silent: and this bed of heath,  
_ _Where shall we find so sweet a resting-place?  
_ _Come!—let me see thee sink into a dream  
_ _Of quiet thoughts,—protracted till thine eye  
_ _Be calm as water when the winds are gone  
_ _And no one can tell whither.—my sweet friend!  
_ _We two have had such happy hours together  
_ _That my heart melts in me to think of it."  
_ William Wordsworth

They found a quiet cafe to grab a quick meal. Finding a quiet table on a corner, removed from the other patrons, Harry quickly filled Ted in on the events since the birthday party.

"Wow, you actually managed to get the Stunning Spell to work? I've been trying to do it at home, but I can't really tell whether it's working or not." He frowned. "You're going to teach me that on the first day."

"Of course," Harry replied soothingly. "We'll also be asking Flitwick if he'd help start a Duelling Club. It'd be really cool if they had a school wide competition," Harry added. He was finding a competitive edge he didn't know he had.

"Well, hopefully one with year divisions. I can't see us lasting that long against any of the older students," Daphne added with a grin.

"I'd fancy my chances with the third years," Harry replied, before realizing how conceited he sounded and looking back onto his food. "I'm starting to sound like Malfoy, aren't I?" he added with a self-conscious grin.

They all laughed, before Harry lowered his voice and showed them the ring.

"I found this in my vault," he explained. "It's got the Peverell crest on it," he pointed out, to Daphne and Ted's surprised acknowledgement.

"People who don't know any better might think it's Grindelwald's symbol," Ted warned him. "You might want to wear that with the crest turned inward." Harry shook his head.

"I'm wearing this as a reminder." Ted nodded in comprehension, but Daphne looked at him in confusion.

"A reminder? Of what?" she asked.

"I can't explain here. Someone might overhear. I'll tell you later," Harry replied solemnly. Daphne nodded, knowing she wouldn't get anything out of him when he was being secretive.

They finished eating and went for a walk afterwards. Daphne was quick to stop them to ogle the new Nimbus 2001 broom, up for view on a broom shop front.

"It's only an incremental difference from the 2000, but damn if I don't want it," she commented wistfully.

"How's the Quidditch training going? Daphne not giving up trying to draft you into the team yet, Harry?" Ted asked, to Daphne's grin and Harry's sigh.

"I don't know who she'll be up against, but even knowing as little as I do about Quidditch I reckon she'll make it. She's getting better every day, especially at chasing," Harry replied, before adding. "But unfortunately she's not letting go of trying to get me to turn out. I'll be too busy with the Duelling Club," he added with a teasing smile.

"But you don't even know whether that's going ahead or not," Daphne replied petulantly.

"I'm sure we'll get it to work. If Flickwick doesn't play along, we can start our own bootleg tournament," he replied with a wink, getting both Daphne and Ted to smirk. Harry wasn't sure whether he was joking or not, though. It would definitely be a lot more fun if there were no teachers around to watch.

They'd got back to walking around, and presently Ted bade them follow him down a side street named Knockturn Alley. Daphne looked at him somewhat dubiously, but followed along, as did Harry, who was trying not to look as curious as he felt. This place looked a bit less polished than Diagon Alley. There were hags roaming around, trying to peddle their dubious wares. Ted scowled at any who tried to draw near, though, which seemed enough to get them to leave them alone.

They walked past a shop called Borgin and Burkes, which had a display of very gory items on the window, almost like they were designed to scare away customers rather than invite them in. In fact, most of the shops in the area had that air about them. Ted led them to a bookshop which had the same look about it. When they entered, the rough looking witch manning the place gave them a glare, but otherwise remained seated at her place, while Ted led them along.

"Don't mind her, she's like that with everyone," he whispered. "There's usually some interesting stuff here," he explained, showing them a few books on curses. "Nothing that's actually illegal, understand. You wouldn't get that sold openly at a bookshop. But you get some things you can't get at Flourish and Blotts."

"Hmmm," Harry murmured, his eyes running over the spine of a volume titled _The Best Defence: A Practical Guide to Curses_. He flipped through it, realizing at once what Ted meant. While none of the spells described sounded particularly pleasant, at the same time they were not outright sadistic, and would certainly be of use in a duel.

Daphne was looking at him and the book skeptically, but Ted came to Harry's rescue.

"I doubt you'll find anything in there that can't be magically healed," Ted said. "That's usually where the line is drawn for… public exposure," he said vaguely, and Harry realized he probably had a fair few books in his house that were not for 'public exposure.' Still, he was very interested in the book's contents, so he paid for it after flattening his hair over his scar. The last thing he wanted was for it to become widely known that Harry Potter was buying books of curses.

"The last time I was here my dad was buying magical fertilizer," Daphne said as they were walking back towards Diagon Alley. "And then he got a cursed chimney grid from Borgin and Burke's. Meant to stop anyone coming through on the Floo when you don't want them to. Lets you block calls too, it's great. The shop owner was creepy as hell, though."

Harry laughed. He had been wondering about the Floo's security implications. He knew they could be turned on and off, but that didn't seem enough. Just because someone was waiting for their friend to visit didn't mean someone else couldn't try to barge in uninvited at the same time.

They were soon back in the main thoroughfare, and spent most of the day talking idly and window shopping. They did make a few purchases. Harry bought a year's supply of owl treats from Eeylops Owl Emporium. Daphne bought even more quidditch paraphernalia from Quality Quidditch Supplies, to add to her already vast collection, including the brand new version of the Harpies uniform robes.

They were walking past Ollivander's, where they were obviously not stopping, when they saw Longbottom and Granger again, coming out of the wand shop.

They all eyed each other awkwardly. As usual, Daphne was the first to break the silence. "Did you break your wand?" she asked, with a slight shudder. Harry hadn't had his wand for very long in the grand scheme of things, but already he had some sense of how dreadful that was. He never let his wand out of sight. Longbottom looked embarrassed, but Granger huffed and turned to the Gryffindor boy.

"Honestly, Neville, it's nothing to be ashamed of." When the boy nodded, Granger was about to begin, but Daphne raised her hand to shush her.

"If you're going to tell us a long story, let's hear it over a cup of tea," Daphne began, before glancing at Ted. "Or coffee."

Harry was surprised about this overture. He certainly wasn't that keen to spend more time with Granger. However, Longbottom was a bit different. Ever since Mr. Greengrass had told Harry what happened to the Gryffindor boy's parents, he had been feeling a bit guilty for how he'd thought of him before. So, he nodded discreetly as Ted glanced at him.

On the Gryffindors' side, Granger seemed a bit unsure, but Longbottom did his own bit at encouraging her to accept Daphne's offer. From this interplay, Harry gathered it was Longbottom's wand that needed replaced, and he probably preferred discussing that in a quiet tea room than in the middle of the street. Harry couldn't really blame him. He still didn't know why Daphne had made the offer, but he didn't really have any issue in going along with it if that's what she wanted. It's not like he had somewhere he needed to be.

So they awkwardly made their way to the same cafe they'd visited earlier. "We've managed not to curse each other so far. I'd say that's an achievement," Daphne said wryly as they sat down. They all had tea, other than Ted, who stuck with his coffee.

"So what's the story?" Daphne asked. "Did something happen to your wand, Longbottom?"

The boy shook his head. "I didn't really have one," he replied. He was obviously trying to overcome his embarrassment.

"I've definitely seen you use a wand…" Harry said, not wanting Daphne to be the only one talking. "I don't think they'd even let you into Hogwarts without one…"

"Well, I had a wand, but it wasn't really mine. It wasn't matched to me…" he began, before Granger cut him off.

"Neville had been using his father's wand. No wonder he couldn't get most spells to work properly. The wand chooses the wizard…" Granger continued ranting for a while. Apparently Mrs. Longbottom took quite a bit of convincing before she agreed to let him get his own wand. Harry didn't really understand why. It's not like the Longbottoms were poor. Even the Weasleys could afford wands for their horde of redheaded children.

"And so, it's really no surprise he was struggling so hard. If it was something like Herbology where he didn't need his own wand he's really quite good…" she finished.

"So did you get a wand now?" Ted asked, looking straight at Longbottom. Harry remembered they'd almost come to blows last year when Longbottom made a comment about Ted's family. Or his father, which amounted to the same thing.

Longbottom eyed Ted suspiciously for a second, but a glance at Harry seemed to put him at ease. He supposed he should thank his Boy-Who-Lived status for once, even if it was on his friend's behalf. After all, if Harry had defeated Voldemort, he couldn't be bad, could he? And if he wasn't bad, his friends couldn't be either.

"Yeah, I've got a new wand. Hermione wouldn't let go until I talked to Gran about it…" he said sadly. Harry couldn't blame him. He wouldn't particularly like to contradict Mrs. Longbottom. Even Mr. Greengrass seemed to give her a lot of respect.

"I'm sure you'll do much better now, Neville," Granger said. To Harry's surprise, Daphne nodded.

"Sorry Longbottom, but it's really crazy that she sent you with an unmatched wand," she said. "It's no wonder you were so hopeless."

Longbottom cringed at this, and Granger looked torn between expressing disapproval of Daphne's delivery, and being happy that she was agreeing with her argument. This discussion of parents' wands was making the wheels turn in Harry's head, though. If Longbottom had been using his father's wand, presumably that wouldn't have had the Trace put on it. Obviously, Harry wasn't about to ask for that wand. He barely knew Longbottom. But that made him wonder just how many wands of dead or otherwise incapacitated people there were lying around, waiting for an underage wizard to pick them up. More to the point, what had happened to his parents' wands? That was definitely worth some consideration later.

While Harry was distracted in this contemplation, they'd moved on from the topic of Longbottom's wand, which the Gryffindor boy looked very grateful for.

"The clerk at Flourish and Blotts was telling Neville's grandmother that Weasley and Malfoy's families were there yesterday, and their fathers got into an actual fistfight. Two grown wizards, can you believe that?" she said. Harry hadn't ever imagined Granger to be a gossip. Not that he wasn't entertained by the image. He snorted loudly.

"Damn, I would have paid good money to see that," Harry said, to Daphne's laughter and Ted's chuckle. "Did Draco and Ron get into it as well? That's the only thing that'd make it better."

"Don't think Draco would last a second in a fistfight with anyone if Crabbe and Goyle weren't there," Daphne replied. "Not that there's any reason to be brawling like muggles."

Granger's face turned sour at that. Daphne realized too late that that wasn't such a clever thing to say in the present company.

"I think we're done here," Granger replied, pursing her lips as she got up.

"Come on Hermione, I'm sure she didn't mean..." Longbottom interceded, but Granger cut him off with a glare before stalking off to the counter to pay. Longbottom stayed behind for a second, turning to Daphne apologetically.

"I know you didn't mean anything by that," he whispered. "I could've easily said the same thing. I'll work on her. Bye all. It was. This… wasn't that bad after all," he said, as he ran off to follow Granger out of the cafe.

Daphne looked quite dejected. Harry wasn't sure why she was so concerned what Granger thought of her, but he remembered Daphne disliking the assumption of prejudice people held about Slytherins, especially if they were from old pureblood families. That wouldn't have done much to help her case, even if Harry thought she was overreacting.

"You were just stating the fact that wizards have magic, and muggles don't," he told her. "Granger is just being uptight. Even Longbottom thought so."

Ted nodded. "You know what she's like. I was surprised she even came with us here in the first place. Come on, let's pay. It's getting late, you guys should probably be heading back," he said as he got up and led them to the counter.

They all took the Knight Bus this time, and actually dropped Ted off in Devon before getting back to Norfolk. Harry wouldn't even pretend to understand how the route planning worked for the thing. Still, they were back at the Greengrasses in good time for dinner, which was what mattered.

After dinner, Harry suggested to Daphne they go for a walk around the grounds. It was a very nice summer evening. It would still be light outside for hours, and the cool breeze after the hot day made the temperature just right for a stroll.

"I haven't forgotten I have something to tell you," Harry said once they were safely away from the property, and any prying ears. He lifted the finger where he was wearing the Peverell ring, just in case Daphne had forgotten. "You might be wondering why I care so much about the Peverells."

"Is this one of those things you and Ted get up to?" she asked. Harry could tell that while she was trying not to show it, she felt a bit hurt at being left out.

"I'm sorry. I just never got around to filling you in. But I'm doing it now, and I'm happy to tell you," he began, giving her an earnest look. "It sounds a bit insane. You'll understand when I'm done. I'm sure you know the Tale of the Three Brothers, right?"

"From Beedle the Bard?" she asked, puzzled. "Yeah, what does that have to do with anything?"

So Harry told her how they'd worked out that there had been three Peverell brothers, and that he was related to one of them, Ignotus, whose grave he'd even seen in Godric's Hollow. Daphne sounded skeptical until he told her about the history of his invisibility cloak. Still, she wasn't quite convinced.

"Do you really think you can hide from Death in your cloak?" she asked, frowning. Harry shrugged.

"I have no idea. But what I do know is that it's worth looking into this. The Gaunt ring. If I'm right, it has the Resurrection Stone on it. We know where the Gaunts lived, so that's the lead I want to work on."

"That's what you really want, isn't it?" Daphne asked. Harry gave her a sad smile, before nodding.

"Of course it is. But I might as well look into the wand. It'd be nice to complete the set," he added with a wry grin.

Daphne was pensieve. "You were right. It does sound crazy," she finally said. "I mean, there's enough in it that it's worth a look. Your cloak does sound special." She was still frowning. "Did you read the story, though? The Tale of the Three Brothers?"

"I did," Harry replied. He had a feeling he knew what was coming.

"The second brother…" she began.

"Cadmus," Harry corrected.

"Cadmus," Daphne temporized. "He wasn't happy. The stone couldn't give him what he wanted…"

His suspicions confirmed, Harry replied. "I know…" he sighed. He'd thought about this, and it did worry him. "I figure it's a story, and it might not get all the details right, or the author is trying to make a point. But even if that detail is true. Even if I can't have my parents back, for real… at least I get to see them. Talk to them." Harry felt his eyes tear up. "I get to say goodbye. Maybe to talk to them once in a while. I don't know," he said, fighting to hold back the tears.

Daphne's demeanour changed at this. She reached forward to bring him into a tight hug. "Oh, Harry," was all she said, and Harry was thankful for that, for he didn't know if he could have said anything in reply right then. "I… I understand. And I'll help. In any way I can. If that stone exists, we'll find it," she said, stepping back from the physical contact. "But I'm going to keep reminding you that it may not exist. Or not do what you'd like it to. You have to live for the future, not the past."

He nodded silently, still fighting to hold back his tears, and they walked back to the house in silence, but not without a whispered "Thanks."

* * *

The next gathering the Greengrasses hosted-just after Harry's new glasses arrived-had a more interesting list of guests. One of them was actually the aunt and guardian of one of Harry's classmates. Susan Bones' aunt Amelia was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She was reputed to be a very formidable witch, someone few dared to trifle with. Amos Diggory worked for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and he was also bringing along his son Cedric, another Hufflepuff, but one who was a bit older than Harry. He had heard the name-especially from the girls. The final guest was someone named Moshe Goldstein, who was an Unspeakable at the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry. As far as Harry could ascertain, this was some sort of research job. As the name indicated, the subjects of their research were closely guarded secrets. He was also the father of their Ravenclaw yearmate Anthony Goldstein.

Harry couldn't help but feel a little sorry for Cedric. That is if he showed up. Daphne thought he probably would convince his father to let him stay home. However, to her surprise, he did show up on the night, accompanying his father and mother and looking very handsome indeed in his well cut robes. As there were six children in total, they were set up at their own separate table, which on one hand was welcome as Harry didn't particularly want to sit through hours of ministry shop talk again. On the other hand, he barely knew these people, or in Cedric's case, hadn't ever exchanged one word with him. So he wasn't particularly looking forward to the inevitable awkwardness either.

He hadn't counted on Cedric Diggory's natural charisma, though. The older boy took his status as the eldest at the table as giving him responsibility for leading the conversation-together with Daphne, who was, after all, the hosts' oldest child.

It helped that as a Hufflepuff, he already knew Susan, so was easily able to get her to relax and begin to talk. Even Harry found himself warming up to the older boy soon enough. He seemed to be really good natured, and didn't fawn over Harry, which he appreciated.

Sitting between Anthony Goldstein and Daphne, Harry began to engage the former. He was curious about his father's work. He knew he wasn't going to be getting any secrets out of him, but he was trying to get a feel of what the job required. He wasn't going to be opening with that, of course. Fortunately, Goldstein had been looking at him like he was eager to talk, and after exchanging a few pleasantries, was happy to engage in conversation.

"How'd you become friends with Morag?" he asked, curiosity evident in his voice. "She was very excited about going to your birthday party. She even had a good time fraternising with Slytherins," he added, pretending to be scandalized.

Harry gave him a wry smile. "We both stayed over for Christmas," he replied, the reason for that being left unspoken. He was sure the bright Ravenclaw would be able to piece things together. "Just started talking then, and we kept talking throughout the year." He paused. He wasn't sure exactly what had gone down between her and Blaise. He felt far too awkward to ask either of them. Deciding against mentioning it, he changed tack. "Please tell me no one's given her any _serious_ crap."

Goldstein shook his head. "Nah, mate. People have teased her about it, but it's not like she's friends with Draco bloody Malfoy or something. Everyone hates that ponce. But no one really has anything against you. We're not Gryffindors. If anything, I'd say people are jealous because she's friends with the Boy-Who-Lived. I mean, you kinda mostly keep to yourself, so people wonder what you're like."

Harry nodded. He knew that for better or worse, he was a celebrity, and people were going to be curious about him. There wasn't much he could do to change that.

"Malfoy's tolerable in small doses," he replied diplomatically. "But even then he's an acquired taste. We just live with him, so we don't get a choice," he added with a grin.

"Better you than me," Goldstein nodded.

Susan Bones, who was sat across from Harry, chose to join the conversation at this. "It's not like Slytherin's got the exclusive on stuck up bores. Zacharias Smith is just as bad." Cedric looked like he wanted to chastise her for this, but she shook her head. "Come on, Cedric, you know it's true. He's a complete prick."

Harry grinned at that, as did Daphne.

"Where's the famous Hufflepuff loyalty, Bones?" she teased. "Good thing Sprout's not here to dock you points."

"I don't think Heads of Houses dock points for not living up to the house's character, otherwise Snape would have to take so many points off Crabbe and Goyle, Slytherin would be in the negative numbers." They all laughed at that.

Harry started asking Goldstein about his father's job, and what it took to get it.

"Of course it's a very academic job. Most Unspeakables tend to come from Ravenclaw, for obvious reasons," he said, somewhat smugly. That made enough sense to Harry, but he couldn't resist needling Anthony.

"Of course this year you Ravenclaws had a Gryffindor show all of you up," he said with a smirk, echoing a comment he heard Morag make at his birthday party. Goldstein's face turned sour.

"I don't know how she ended up in Gryffindor. To be honest I can't say I'm that unhappy about it. I think if I'd go crazy if I had to share a house with her. Well done for beating her in Transfiguration at least."

Harry laughed heartily at that, before nodding at Goldstein's compliment. "It's my favourite subject. Was my dad's best too," he said sadly. Goldstein looked awkwardly at Harry, unsure what to say to that. Susan, on the other hand, was looking at him in understanding. Putting two and two together, the fact that her aunt was Susan's guardian meant that she was likely an orphan too.

Harry tried to diffuse the awkwardness. "Have you bought the books for the new year yet?"

Goldstein nodded. "Can you believe all that rubbish from Lockhart? How is he going to teach us from that?"

There were vigorous nods all around the table. "Auntie says she's met him and doesn't know how half the things in those books can be true." They all glanced at Madam Bones, who was deep in conversation with Mrs. Greengrass.

"Was your aunt in Hufflepuff too?" Daphne asked. Susan raised an eyebrow at that.

"Are you surprised?" Susan asked. "Look at Cedric here. He's the best in his year. People always think we're duffers but that's not really fair at all."

Cedric modestly tried to downplay his achievements, but Harry gave him an appraising look. "So he's kind of like the Granger of his year?" he asked with a grin.

Susan laughed at that. "Oh, he's not nearly as annoying as Granger," she replied, returning Harry's grin. "You have Potions with the Gryffindors, don't you? Is she like that with Snape too."

Daphne and Harry laughed at that. "She tries, but Snape has no time for her. He usually just ignores her," Daphne replied.

"Don't think she's ever earned any points, but then again he never gives any points to Gryffindors. Or to me," Harry added with an eye roll.

"He's not so bad in the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff class," Goldstein replied. "I do know he favours Slytherins, though. He never gives _you_ any points? What's up with that?"

Daphne was looking at Harry curiously. Obviously they now knew the real reason for that, but she was probably wondering how much Harry wanted to reveal. Harry only had to give it a brief thought, however.

"Apparently he went to Hogwarts at the same time as my father, and they hated each other," he explained, leaving out any mention of his mother. That was definitely something he did not want to even think about, much less have it more widely known than it presumably already was, among people who went to school with them at least. "And since apparently I look just like my father…" he shrugged.

"But that's really unfair," Susan Bones protested. "Especially when…" she stopped abruptly.

"Especially when I've never known him anyway," he finished bitterly. "It's true, but well, the world's unfair, Bones. That's just how it is. At least he's not actually taking any points. And let's face it, house points don't _really_ matter, do they? I mean, the party was nice, but…" he shrugged. "There are more important things to worry about."

Other than Daphne, who was used to this kind of thing, everyone gave Harry odd looks. Cedric's in particular was of newfound respect, but all of them looked like they were seeing him for the first time, even Astoria. He felt the mood at the table growing somber, and tried to deflect attention from himself.

"Did you hear that Lucius Malfoy and Arthur Weasley got into a _fist fight_ at Flourish and Blotts?" he whispered. He was usually not a gossip, but he found this too funny to pass up, especially since it would certainly distract everyone. Apparently this wasn't news to all those present, though, since Susan Bones nodded with a giggle.

"Oh, I saw it!" she replied. "I was there to buy my books on the day it happened!" Harry was even more relieved that he wouldn't even have to carry the conversation from there on. Bones was only too happy to retell the scene, adding a few tidbits about Lockhart as well. Harry did his best to engage in conversation the rest of the evening, and felt relatively well about how it went after that. It wasn't long until the guests departed, but Harry felt they'd be upgraded to at least passing greetings in the hallways. He was glad when it was over, though, and he could relax in bed with his father's old third year Transfiguration text.

* * *

It was hard to practice much of the coming Transfiguration exercises, as they mostly involved animal to object changes. He tried as he could with insects, but most of his time was focused on reading, and practising the Stunning Spell and Shielding Charm, which he wanted to completely master. Between that and Quidditch practises, which Daphne kept pushing on him relentlessly, the days passed in a blur and the first of September was upon them.

The evening before, the Greengrasses had their elf prepare a very lavish dinner to mark their leaving. It occurred to Harry that hardly any muggle children went to boarding school, Dudley excepted. Yet pretty much all wizarding kids did. That must be hard on some parents. He wouldn't know, of course. The Greengrasses at least had Astoria stay behind for another year, though she'd be accompanying them to Kings Cross.

Mr. Greengrass insisted they be all packed on the day before, so they made an early, quick, and uneventful journey from Norfolk to London. That they could all fit comfortably inside what looked like a single cab pickup showed that more than a little bit of magic had been applied to the insides as well. They made it to Kings Cross with time to spare, the truck's ability to pop in and out of traffic ensuring the chaotic London rush hour didn't do much to impede their transit. Just like with the Knight Bus, Harry wondered how muggles never caught sight of this, but he supposed that as with so many things, the answer was just 'magic.'

Despite having got there fairly early, they were clearly _not_ the first wizarding family in attendance. Harry could tell this even when he did not recognize the people in question, because most did not have Mr. Greengrass dress sense and ended up wearing something completely ridiculous. Others were less conspicuous, but still stood out to the trained eye by the presence of owl cages or similar things. They walked into the platform just behind a family of a sixth year Slytherin whose name Harry didn't remember, but whom he recognized from the common room. He gave Harry and Daphne a nod as he went on, before they turned to say their goodbyes.

"It's really been great staying over with you, Mr. Greengrass. I really can't thank you enough," he said, shaking his host's hand as Daphne hugged Astoria goodbye.

"It was my pleasure, Harry. You're always welcome under my roof, any time. I hope you have a good year at Hogwarts" he replied, before turning to Daphne, leaving Harry face-to-face with Astoria.

"It's been nice getting to know you," he said, trying not to overwhelm her too much. Still, she had grown used to Harry's presence over the past month, and was no longer as tongue tied in his presence. "I know it feels like ages before you'll be going to Hogwarts, but you'll see how soon the year passes," he said, before feeling surprisingly charitable and giving her a spontaneous hug. She definitely wasn't ready for that, and when they separated, was blushing bright red.

"It was great… getting to know you too, yeah," she was able to reply. "Um, I hope you have fun at school. And that I can see you sometime, soon, yeah," she stammered, still more affected by Harry's touch than she wanted to let on. Daphne and Mr. Greengrass were looking on indulgently, before Harry waved goodbye at his hosts and, having had Mr. Greengrass put a featherweight charm on his trunk, dragged it effortlessly behind him.

As they walked along the platform, they saw several families saying their goodbyes, some with old students who looked close to graduation, some with firsties who had very little idea about what was in store for them. One of these was a girl with long blond hair and strangely protuberant eyes, who had a disconcertingly vague, blue-eyed stare. She was talking to a man who was obviously her father, for they looked fairly similar, the father being slightly cross-eyed instead. Harry was about to avert his gaze when his eyes came upon the necklace the man was wearing, a golden chain from which a familiar symbol dangled. Harry almost stopped dead in his tracks. He managed to avoid staring, and kept going, but he squeezed Daphne's arm tightly.

"Did you see that," he whispered.

"See what?" she replied.

"That man over there? With the shoulder length blonde hair," Harry described, stopping by a carriage door and trying to make their observation as inconspicuous as possible.

Daphne nodded. "I think that's Xenophilus Lovegood," she said. At Harry's questioning look, she explained.

"He edits a rag called _The Quibbler_. It's mostly full of nonsense and conspiracy theories." She paused to look at the pair. "I guess that must be his daughter? I don't recognize her so she must be starting this year." Harry nodded.

"Look at his necklace, though," he whispered.

Daphne looked, and her eyes soon darted back to Harry's ring. "That's…" Harry nodded again.

"It's the Peverell crest, isn't it?" he said. "Funny how it keeps popping up when I'm looking for it." Daphne raised her eyebrows in response.

"What are you going to do about it?" she asked.

"I think I'm going to wander into Miss Lovegood's compartment later," he replied with a grin.

"Good thing no one's hearing that out of context," Daphne said with a laugh. Harry shook his head.

"You don't have to come," he said, but she shook her head in turn.

"Oh, no, I'm curious now too. Besides, I said I'd help you, didn't I?" she replied. Harry nodded, and with a grin they climbed aboard the train, albeit slowly and keeping an eye on their target. As the departure time drew near, more and more students boarded. When the blonde first year finally hopped on, they moved through the train towards her carriage, dodging other students in the process.

When they finally located her, Harry was slightly annoyed to find that there was a second person in her compartment, a ginger haired girl who Harry found vaguely familiar. Still, as the two were in conversation, he doubted kicking her out would achieve anything. The two were probably friends. So Harry just knocked.

"Hello, is there room here?" he asked with attempted nonchalance as he opened the door. The blonde calmly turned towards him and nodded, but the redhead blushed as bright as her hair when she saw who Harry was. That made something click in Harry's mind, and he recognized her as the youngest Weasley sister, whom he'd seen on the platform a couple of months ago. The one who'd pointed him out. Great, so he had someone else with a crush to manage.

Putting these thoughts aside for the moment, he stepped and placed his trunk on the luggage rack, making enough room for Daphne to follow him inside.

"I'm Harry, by the way," he introduced himself. "Harry Potter. And this is Daphne Greengrass," he added, as Daphne lifted her own, magically lightweight trunk next to Harry's.

"I'm Luna Lovegood," the blonde replied with a smile. "This is Ginny Weasley."

Ginny, that was it. He now remembered he'd heard the Weasley mother call her that.

"Nice to meet you both," he replied, before turning to Ginny. "You probably didn't hear very nice things about me from your brother. I'll just say there's two sides to every story," he said, making her blush even redder, shaking her head violently.

Daphne was looking at this exchange in a bemused way, until her eyes wandered over to the two girls' trunks. Harry smiled when he saw what her eyes had been drawn to.

"Who's a Harpies fan?" Daphne asked, pointing at the logo covering the sides of one of the trunks.

"I am," Weasley replied, before turning to Daphne, somewhat less shyly now that she wasn't directly addressing Harry. "Are you…" That was all she could get out before Daphne began enthusing about this season's team.

' _How convenient_ ,' Harry thought as he turned to Lovegood, happy to be spared having to deal with the Weaslette. He gave the blonde a smile. He was very impressed with how nonplussed the girl was when he'd introduced himself. It was like she'd hardly heard his name before.

"Looking forward to Hogwarts?" he asked. "What house do you think you'll be in?" He unconsciously fingered his Slytherin scarf as he asked this. The girl tilted her head and fixed him with her vacant stare. Harry had begun to wonder if she'd heard him, before she did reply.

"Definitely not Slytherin. _Or_ Gryffindor," she added. "Probably Ravenclaw, but I suppose I might end up in Hufflepuff."

"Fair enough. Sometimes sortings surprise you, though," Harry replied with a grin. He paused for a second before adding. "I think I saw you on the platform. You were with a wizard with long hair? Same colour as yours? Was that your dad?" he asked, beginning to lead the conversation to where he really wanted it to go. He felt the train begin to move, and hoped Ted was on board and would find them.

"Yeah, that's dad," she replied. "He's the editor of the _Quibbler_. Are you a subscriber?"

"Uh, no, I'm not," he replied. "What is it?" He already knew the answer from Daphne, but he figured the daughter of the editor would give him a different perspective.

"It's The Wizarding World's Alternative Voice," she replied. Harry could hear the capitals in those words. "It tells you about all the news the _Daily Prophet_ won't print. Dad broke out the story about the Crumple-Horned Snorkack," she explained. Harry didn't know what a Crumple-Horned Snorkack was, but judging by Daphne's expression, Harry figured it was probably the wizarding equivalent of Big Foot. Weasley looked very embarrassed by this, but Harry shrugged it aside.

"That sounds very interesting. Could you send me a subscription form?" he asked, putting on his most angelic face, and pretending not to notice any of the awkwardness.

"Oh, of course," she said. "I don't have any right now, but I'm happy to owl you one." She sounded surprised he was asking.

"That'd be great. So does your dad write most of the articles? He must know a lot of obscure things about the wizarding world, right?" he wondered if he was laying the flattery on a bit too thick, but was distracted from that when Ted knocked on the compartment door.

"Hey, there you are," he said, bringing his luggage into the compartment. "Was everywhere else full?"

Before Daphne could say anything, Harry replied. "Ted, glad you found us, have a seat." He put his arm around Ted's shoulders, before introducing him to the two first years.

"And these are Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley," he introduced in turn. At the mention of Ted's family name, Weasley frowned a bit, but Harry really wasn't concerned about her. "Luna's dad is the editor of the _Quibbler_ ," Harry explained, squeezing Ted's shoulders in what he hoped would convey to his friend the need for discretion.

"Really?" Ted asked, sitting down between Harry and Daphne, after putting up his trunk.

"Yeah, isn't that _interesting_?" he asked. "I noticed your father was wearing a very cool looking pendant," Harry said, finally broaching the reason he was in that compartment in the first place.

Ted gave him an interested look, but he was starting to realize that Harry was on a fishing expedition with the blonde girl, so began to try to distract Weasley by dragging her into conversation with both himself and Daphne.

Weasley looked like she'd much rather be talking to Harry than to them, but she didn't have a lot of choice without being incredibly rude.

"Did you notice that? Dad always wears that pendant. Do you know what it's about?" she asked, in a more lively tone than she had used before.

"I've never seen it," Harry lied, belatedly covering the ring in his hand. As the girl went on, he tried to surreptitiously turn it around so the crest was facing his palm, rather than outward. "Do you know what it is?" The girl nodded slowly before giving her answer.

"Oh yes, Dad has told me about it. It's the sign of the Deathly Hallows," she revealed.

"The Deathly Hallows?" Harry repeated. Ted and Daphne's ears perked up at this, though they still made an effort to engage Weasley. "What's that?" he asked, trying not to sound too excited.

"I'm not surprised you haven't heard about it," she said mysteriously. "Very few have. That is a sign that those in the know wear, to make themselves known to other believers," she explained.

"Believers?" Harry asked, slightly confused.

"Oh dear, I'm really not explaining myself very well, am I?" she said, still smiling. "Have you ever heard of the Tale of the Three Brothers?"

Harry tried very hard to contain his excitement. This was it, he was not being led astray.

"Yeah, I've heard it," he replied slowly.

"Good. That makes it much easier to explain. The Deathly Hallows are the gifts Death gave to the three brothers, the Elder Wand," she began, making a vertical line with her hand, "the Resurrection Stone," then a circle, "and The Cloak of Invisibility," she finished, making a triangle enclosing both. "If someone manages to unite the three Hallows, they will become the Master of Death."

Harry nodded slowly. Lovegood probably expected him to call her crazy. Certainly Weasley's embarrassed look told him it wouldn't be the first time. But Harry didn't think she was crazy. He wasn't about to sound too interested either, though.

"Are these Hallows real? Isn't the Tale of the Three Brothers just a story?" he asked nonchalantly.

"The Elder Wand is definitely real," she replied. "No one knows where it is now, but it's definitely been mentioned throughout wizarding history. That's why wands made of elder wood are thought to be unlucky. Because this wand has mostly changed hands through murder." At this, Weasley seemed to have had enough.

"Luna, stop boring Harry with your stories," she said, before turning to him, her face as red as her hair.

"He asked," Lovegood replied, and Harry nodded. "Oh, she's not boring me at all," he said. "I don't see how you'll end up anywhere else than Ravenclaw myself," he added. The girl seemed to like hearing this, for she looked embarrassed for the first time. Just as these words left Harry's mouth, the food trolley came by, and Harry happily bought some treats for everyone in the compartment.

Weasley looked like she didn't dare to eat any, but quickly managed to thank him. They'd settled into eating in silence and looking at the landscape. Anything important would have to wait until Harry was alone with Daphne and Ted, anyway. So Harry pulled out the third year transfiguration textbook and continued reading, until the door to the compartment suddenly opened again.

"Oh there you are Ginny!" It was Ron Weasley. Harry supposed this was inevitable, although he really didn't want to put up with the ginger boy, especially since he was only in the Weaselette's compartment incidentally. He tried to look inconspicuous, but the sheer volume of Slytherins in the compartment wasn't likely to escape the older Weasley's notice.

"What are you doing sitting with this lot?" he asked, frowning, as if their very presence might contaminate a young girl's mind.

"I was just here with Luna, and Ha… Potter asked if he could sit in," she said, obviously mortified by her brother's behaviour.

"It's true," Lovegood said, meeting Ron's eyes with her slightly vacant, blue gaze. "He's been very nice, even bought us sweets," she said, before offering one of the sweets Harry had got for her to the angry boy.

Daphne and Ted were eyeing Weasley warily, and their hands looked ready to fly to their wands, but Harry was not going to get into any unnecessary confrontations so soon in the year.

"I promise you it wasn't even poisoned," he said, trying to hold a smirk, but at the same time hoping to defuse the situation. He reached forward and grabbed one of Ginny's chocolate frogs, and quickly ate it before it jumped away. "See?"

Weasley obviously thought Harry was still making fun of him, but he could also see he was outnumbered, and that his sister wasn't exactly looking at him as a rescuer either. So, he tried to retreat with dignity. "Come on Ginny, I saved you a seat with the other Gryffindors… Luna can come too," he added belatedly.

Ginny didn't look particularly happy at that, but grudgingly went along, dragging her trunk out. Harry was going to offer to take it down, but a glare from Weasley told him that was going to be more trouble than it was worth. So he sat by while she left, Lovegood in tow, although the latter looked like she'd much prefer staying.

"Bye Luna, it was great talking to you," Harry added, giving the blonde a wave. For some reason, he had a feeling she would be worth holding on to as an acquaintance, at least.

When he was reasonably confident Weasley and Co. had gone, he cast a privacy charm, before turning excitedly to his friends.

"Sorry about that, but when I saw that necklace, I had to know what was behind it," he said, trying to contain his excitement.

"It was completely worth it," Daphne said. Ted nodded in agreement.

"Now we know the things have a name. It'll be much easier to look for information," he said. "I hope I don't have to buy the _Quibbler_ to do it, though," he added with a grin. "Are you actually going to subscribe to it?" Harry shrugged.

"Maybe. Who knows, it might be worth it," he said. "We'll talk more later, though," he added, cancelling the privacy charms. They rode the rest of the way to Hogwarts eating the leftover sweets, and speculating about what the new school year held in store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're almost at Hogwarts now. As always, I love reviews, so please leave some. I'm especially interested to hear what worked for you and what didn't. So please, review, review.

**Author's Note:**

> And here we are, the first of hopefully many more chapters to come. I'd appreciate it if you took the time to review. I especially welcome constructive criticism, by which I mean actual concrit, not a torrent of insults disguised as such. But I love every review I may get, so if you don't feel up to leaving concrit, anything is fine. I'd just like to know what you think.
> 
> Until then.


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